


The Blind Side of Love

by gm02



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: AU, Artist Korra, Book Conversion, Bopal - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Korrasami - Freeform, Korrasami is Canon, The Blind Side of Love, actress asami, korrasami AU, legend of korra - Freeform, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 192,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gm02/pseuds/gm02
Summary: An AU where Asami falls in love of with one of Korra’s sketches while passing by her art stand in Central Park. A few days after purchasing the piece, she decides to email Korra. They accidentally become friends through their emails. The problem is, Korra doesn’t realize she’s emailing Asami Sato, an extremely famous actress.*This is a book-conversion originally written by Ingrid Díaz*If you want to read the original version or learn more about the original author, check out her website! http://ingriddiaz.com
Relationships: Bolin/Asami Sato, Bolin/Opal (Avatar), Korra & Kuvira (Avatar), Korra/Asami Sato, Korra/Mako (Avatar), Opal & Asami Sato
Comments: 1270
Kudos: 1395





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Blind Side of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/702394) by Ingrid Díaz. 



> Hey guys! This is a book-conversion of “The Blind Side of Love” written by Ingrid Díaz. She has given me permission to convert her amazing book to fit the lovely ship that is Korrasami. 
> 
> If you want to find out more about the original author, check out her website! http://ingriddiaz.com

The red-brown leaf ceased its struggle to hang on; surrendered instead to the pull of gravity, to the flow of the wind. It floated aimlessly, helplessly, above the taxicabs and sidewalks, caught in a dance of impromptu rhythm and improvised steps until at last, it landed.

The pencil paused mid-stroke, its movement interrupted by the unexpected intruder in its path. Korra brushed the leaf away with her left hand before sitting back to examine her progress. She took in the perfectly straight lines forming an exact black-and-white replica of the park around her: the bench she currently occupied, the naked trees, the piles of leaves decaying nearby, the people strolling along. She glanced up from the sketchpad to compare the nearly seamless recreation with its live, three-dimensional counterpart, and she sighed.

How could she possibly fill a blank page with everything she saw? How could she capture the laughter, the sounds, the sadness and desperation with a mere stroke of the pencil? Could she? Was it possible?

The questions hovered above the ever-present ghosts of self-doubt. The need to start over pushed forward; the need to create and recreate until there was nothing left to question. The sheet ripped easily from its spiral binding, became nothing but a crumpled ball of disillusionment, and disappeared into an eternity of discarded attempts.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, in a tone that betrayed his lack of sincerity. His lips brushed against hers in a hasty greeting, and he sat beside her, one hand deep in the pockets of his long black coat, the other holding a lit cigarette.

Light blue eyes lingered on the empty-white nothingness of the page. “Is it five already?” she asked, though she was well aware that it was almost six. “Guess I lost track of time.” She looked up then, into her boyfriend’s light brown eyes and searched for something to cling to. “Class run late?”

“The professor wanted to talk about my last paper,” he said as the smoke broke free from his lips and escaped into the air around them. From his pocket he withdrew the folded pages of his mid-term. “Check it out.”

The large “A” lay emblazoned at the top of the cover page, written in bright, permanent red ink. She smiled, trying to feel proud, but feeling a detached sense of resentment instead. “Is this the one you barely worked on?”

“Genius comes easily to some people,” and he laughed, flicking the cigarette butt into the air. His black hair fell into his eyes, and out of reflex, Korra reached over to smooth it back. He smiled at her, kissed the palm of her hand as it grazed past his cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately.”

Korra looked at him for a long moment, taking in the beautiful eyes that had once held the power to disarm her. Where had that gone, she wondered. What was left in its place? “It’s really okay, Mako,” she said, knowing that one of these days she would have to tell him the truth.

He leaned over to kiss her and she smiled against his lips, tasting the bitter-sweetness of familiarity. She wished she could take a snapshot of that moment and frame it against the darker shadows of her thoughts. She wanted to whisper, “I love you,” out of habit, if nothing else. But she stifled the impulse and pulled away.

“So, what were you working on?” he asked, sitting back. His gaze landed on the notebook on her lap.

Korra glanced down and shrugged, feeling angry with herself for having nothing to show him. How she wished she could make something wonderful appear in the empty surface of the page, just so he could see that he was not the only one with a validated future. Instead, she felt naked, her failure exposed in the implied absence of motivation. “I… I had something, but I threw it away.”

His laugh sounded mocking. “What’s the point of that?”

Korra glanced away, her gaze shifting from the blank page towards the Washington Arch. He was right. What was the point? “Maybe there isn’t one,” she said after a moment, looking at him. “Maybe I’m just trying too hard.”

“Maybe you should just rethink this whole artist thing,” he replied thoughtfully. “I mean, your family is spending so much money to send you to NYU, just so you can, what, study art?” He placed another cigarette between his lips. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

She watched him struggle with the lighter, momentarily distracted by the click, click, click of every failed attempt.

“Fucking thing.”

Korra drew in a breath. “I have to go. I have a project for class I need to work on.” The lie filled her with a strange sense of pleasure. Mako glanced up, paused in his futile attempt to start a flame. The unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, and he withdrew it a second later. “I thought we were getting something to eat?”

“Well, you were late. I don’t have time now.”

“That’s real nice, Korra. You could have told me you had something to do tonight. I would’ve made other plans.”

She rose, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Well, I’m telling you now.”

He stared at her, as if debating whether it was worth it to start a fight, as if debating whether or not he cared enough to bother. At last, he looked down and shook his head. “Whatever. Can I come over later?”

The question hung in the air between them like a truce, and Korra decided it was best to accept it. “Sure.”

“Cool. Is Kuvira going to be there?”

“She’s working late.”

Mako smiled. “Then I’ll be there early.” He kissed her again. “See you tonight.”

Korra stared after him, suddenly lost in what felt like desperation. She looked down at the sketchpad in her hand, resisted the urge to toss it into the wind, to forget for just one moment that her life boiled down to nothing more than empty pages waiting to be filled. Is that how Mako saw her, as a waste of time and money? What was the point, he’d asked her. What was the point of trying to capture the trivialities of life, to freeze the natural movements of the world in blocks of lines and shadows?

The leaves at her feet rustled to life, and Korra watched them struggle senselessly against the pull of the wind. She brushed the scattered strands of brown hair from her face, and held the notebook to her chest.

There was no point, she finally decided, moments later, as she started to walk away. No point at all; just the simple, unquestionable fact that this was what she wanted to do.

~*~

The magazine fell on the small circular table, its sound drowned by the constant noise of conversation.

Korra stared at the cover, its bright pink surface shining awkwardly in the dull, yellow lighting of the coffeehouse. When she looked up, green eyes were watching her expectantly. “I’m sorry, I left my mindreading powers in my other jeans,” Korra said finally.

Kuvira settled into the empty seat across from Korra with a loud, dramatic sigh, and stared at her best friend with mock impatience. “Page thirty-two.”

“Please?”

Kuvira rolled her eyes. “If you would be so kind, please, as to turn to page thirty-two, please, I would be much appreciative.”

“You could’ve thrown a ‘thank you’ in there for good measure,” Korra replied with a smile.

“Politeness is overrated.” Kuvira nodded solemnly. “It goes against my higher purpose.”

“Which is…?” Korra flipped open the magazine and began searching for page thirty-two, a task that proved difficult in the face of numberless pages.

“To be brutally honest in every and all situations,” Kuvira answered simply. “I’ve made it my personal goal to abolish b.s.”

Korra smirked and paused in her search. She looked up at her roommate with an arched brow. “Since when?”

“It’s my New Year’s resolution,” Kuvira declared.

“It’s October.”

“So, I’m getting a head start. Did you find the page yet?”

Korra returned to the mission at hand. When she finally found page thirty-two, she stared at the black-and white ad with confusion. “Lip augmentation surgery?”

Kuvira puckered her lips so they stuck out as far as they would go. “It’s all the rage,” she said a second later. “I’ve decided that’s why I haven’t landed any good roles in anything; my lips are too thin. I’m thinking a cross between Liv Tyler and Angelina Jolie.”

“Wow.” Korra sat back against the chair. “Every time I think you couldn’t get crazier… you speak.”

“So you’re saying…?”

Korra leaned forward. “I’m saying you’d look like a freak.”

Kuvira frowned thoughtfully. “Well, then, there’s always the circus. Step right up! See the Over-Lipped Lady!”

Korra let out a long laugh. “I’m almost tempted to encourage you on that endeavor.”

“You’re a true friend,” Kuvira said, grabbing the magazine and turning it over so she could look through it.

After a second, of flipping idly through the pages, she shrugged. “Maybe it’s my hair. Maybe I should go for something spunkier.” She pulled several strands of brown hair away from her face and let them slip through her fingers. “Hm,” she said thoughtfully, and continued to look through the magazine.

Korra watched her friend with amusement, relieved to be in the presence of such pleasant distraction.

“It’s just not fair that some people get to pull off any look,” Kuvira said suddenly. “It’s like Asami Sato. The girl can try thirty different hair styles and still look drop-dead gorgeous.” She held up the magazine for emphasis.

Korra glanced briefly at the plethora of pictures featuring the actress in question. She shrugged after a moment. “I guess some people get to compensate for their lack of talent by being beautiful.”

“Ooh, harsh. I hope you’re not that mean to me when I’m on the silver screen.”

Korra stared at her best friend seriously. “You’ve got actual talent.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you think so.” Kuvira smiled. “Although, she was really good in Silence Speaks.”

“I haven’t seen that. I just know she sucks on that show …”

“Guardian?” Kuvira supplied. “I don’t think she’s bad in it. I think the show’s just cheesy. You can’t really do much with a script like that.”

Korra shrugged, not having much of an argument for that, nor particularly caring. She glanced around the coffeehouse, momentarily fascinated by the murmur of conversations. All around her life went on in a giant mixture of words she couldn’t quite distill. Sometimes she wished she could step outside of herself just long enough to experience something other than her own life.

“So, what’s wrong?”

Korra turned back to catch Kuvira staring at her. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“Because I know you. You’ve got that distant gleam in your eye. The one that screams, ‘I hate my life and everything it stands for because I’m an artist and I’m deep like that.’”

Korra couldn’t help but laugh. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’ve got about five minutes left to listen attentively to your every problem before I return to the land of coffee-making. So, let’s hear them, in reverse alphabetical order. Although, I think I can already guess that they all start with the letter M.”

Korra looked away from Kuvira’s inquiring gaze. It was too much, she thought, to sort through every individual strand of bothersome emotion. There were no specific problems, none that she could point to with any amount of conviction and say, ‘There, that’s what’s bothering me.’ There was nothing, really, nothing but a broken jigsaw puzzle, with all the adjoining pieces scattered randomly across her mind, overturned and undecipherable. She stared at Kuvira through the silence, and shrugged. “I’m really not sure.”

“Ah, well, maybe I can help.” Kuvira shifted in her seat, wobbling the table as she placed her elbows on the wooden surface. “Let’s see, your boyfriend’s a self-absorbed dolt, who seriously, seriously, needs to look up words like ‘personality’ and ‘humor’ in the dictionary before ever attempting to have a conversation with another human being. His laugh, on the bizarre occasion when he manages to at least amuse himself enough to elicit the hyena-like sound, is deeply irritating. You’ve been dating him for, what, like two years and I still haven’t figured out what you see in him. He’s cute, sure, but I mean, look at you, Korra, you’re fucking gorgeous. And I’m sorry to say this, but your sex life is about as exciting as—”

“Okay, I beg you to stop,” Korra interrupted, holding her hands up in the air. “But thank you for your enlightening summary of everything that’s wrong with my boyfriend.”

Kuvira frowned. “That was hardly everything. Then there are your parents…”

Korra rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch. “I should go. Mako’s coming over, and I think your five minutes are almost up.”

“Okay, fine, but we’re not through with this yet. Remember, I know where you live.”

Korra began gathering her belongings. “That’s very comforting, thank you. ”

“So, about the lip thing…”

Korra swung the backpack over her shoulder and smiled. “You are nuts.” She leaned down to kiss Kuvira’s cheek. “Be careful getting home. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Kuvira called after her.

Ignoring the suddenly attentive glances of the people around her, Korra headed quickly for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t wait for you guys to see how this story unfolds. Unfortunately the plot of this story doesn’t perfectly align with The Legend of Korra plot/characters, but I’m going to tie in as much as I can! 
> 
> I have already converted the first 25 chapters, so I’ll hopefully release a chapter every day or so!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com
> 
> Enjoy!

The rain fell like tears against the windowpane, distorting the view of the city below. She stared through the streaks of water at the world surrounding her own: New York City stretched out before her like a postcard-perfect image of itself; perfect, even while glimpsed through the flawed gaze of circumstance.

She leaned her tall, lithe frame against the wall, and looked away from the window. The outside lights cast rain-patterned shadows across the floor of her hotel room. It was strange how beautiful silence could seem contrasted against the tumultuous reality of her existence.

She had been standing there too long, she knew. She should change. She should get ready for the charity event that awaited her, but motivation eluded her, and the peacefulness of the moment was too tempting to let go of.

Instead, she remained by the window, staring down at the world many stories below; at the taxicabs and neon signs; at the people concealed beneath umbrellas, and felt, as always, disconnected; felt, as always, set apart. The questions that always lingered in her mind pressed forward. The questions that hovered in the air at every interview, that punctuated every answer she gave swirled around her head with increasing urgency: How long could she keep this going? How long until she fell apart?

She sighed, her breath staining the glass for a brief instant before fading away. How long indeed.

Then came the inevitable knock, followed by the inevitable sound of the door opening behind her. Light flooded her vision, and she blinked rapidly, as her view of the City turned into a reflection of the room. She glanced at herself for half a second, just long enough to catch the glimpse of disappointment in her green eyes, before turning around to face her visitor.

Bolin stood in the doorway, his muscular frame blocking the view of the brightly lit hallway behind him. He looked model-beautiful, dressed in the black tuxedo she had picked out for him before they’d left L.A. She stifled a smile at his discomfort. “Asami, just in case you didn’t notice, the room came fully equipped with electricity.” He motioned to the light switch for emphasis.

Asami Sato leaned her back against the window. “Ha ha.” She grinned at her best friend before adding, “You look great.”

“I suppose I do look rather handsome,” he replied, smoothing the sides of his black hair with his hand. His green eyes betrayed his pleasure at the compliment. “You owe me big time for this, regardless.”

Asami smiled, the kind of smile that she reserved for him, and him alone. If only I could fall in love with you... and the thought made her smile flicker. She turned away from him and walked to the bed where her dress awaited. She stared at it for a long moment, as if doing so meant the same as putting it on. “Do you think they’d really miss me if I didn’t show?”

“Um, please don’t say you’ve changed your mind. I’ve undergone a dramatic transformation on your behalf.” He motioned to his attire. “I was very happy in my track pants before you waved that black-tie invitation in my face.”

“You could just as easily take it off,” Asami replied patiently.

“Are you serious?” Bolin looked at her skeptically. “Or is this one of those crazy female things I don’t understand? Like, you’ll tell me that you don’t want to go, so I’ll go change, and then two seconds later you’ll knock on my door wearing your diamond-studded dress and yelling that we’re going to be late and it’s all my fault.”

Asami arched an eyebrow.

“I know how you women work. First you confuse us, then you abuse us, and then you seduce us.”

“That’s very deep, Bolin, but I have no desire to seduce you.”

Bolin narrowed his eyes. “So, you just want to confuse and abuse me? I knew it. I’m on to you, Ms. Sato, don’t think I’m intimidated by your Hollywood stardom.” He paused for a moment. “So... should I change?”

Asami fixed her gaze upon the dress. Tonight, she would be nothing but another recognizable face among many, a star shining no more brightly than the rest. She would spend her evening making small talk with people she’d pretend to remember from prior gatherings; she would smile graciously as strangers showered her in fake admiration; and then eventually return to this empty hotel room and lie awake wondering how so much attention could breed such overwhelming loneliness.

To Bolin, she said, “No,” and sighed. “I said I would go, so I’m going.”

“And here you had my hopes up. I’ll let you get ready then. I’ll be in my room when you’re done.”

He stared to leave, but Asami stopped him. As he turned back toward her, she smiled, “I do owe you,” she said.

“Well about that seducing...”

“Nice try. Now get out of here or we’ll be late and it’ll be all your fault.”

His laugh echoed in the hall as he closed the door. 

\---

Korra lay awake trying desperately to block out all of the thoughts pounding furiously in her mind. She stared up at the cracked, water-stained ceiling above her bed and listened to the familiar sounds around her: the heater creaking in protest of its over-extended lifespan, the sound of Kuvira getting ready for bed, the out-of-context murmurs of her surrounding neighbors.

Beside her, Mako snored softly, the sound momentarily drowned by the sudden rush of police sirens outside. She waited until they faded away into the distance, and then turned on her side to face the window. The slivers of light shining through the blinds cast matching shadows across the wall, and she stared at the pattern of prison-like bars for a long time.

She wished that Mako had gone back to his apartment and left her to sleep in peace. She could feel the warmth of his chest against her naked back. She could hear the soft snores against her ear. She closed her eyes and attempted to shut out his presence, but the effort yielded an unexpected flow of tears instead. She wiped her face against the pillow and sniffled back her emotions. Everything felt wrong, broken; and she didn’t know where to start piecing things back together.

She thought of the many attempts at art she’d cast away lately. She had put so much of herself into every stroke of the pencil; she had tried so hard to express her passion through each movement of her hand. She had failed; time and time again, she had ended up with nothing more than a handmade photograph that conveyed nothing beyond its mere existence. Where was the passion? Where was the risk, where was the edge she was so entirely lacking?

She sighed into the darkness and turned halfway around to make sure that Mako was still asleep. She slid slowly out of bed, searched the floor for her scattered clothes, and put them on. Casting one last glance at the bed, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

Kuvira peered out of the bathroom at that moment, a toothbrush dangling precariously from her mouth. She spoke through a foamy mouth, “At ah you ‘oin uht?”

“Can’t sleep,” Korra said in hushed tones, closing the door to her bedroom softly. She walked out into the small living room and lay down on the couch. She concentrated on the sound of running water, of Kuvira spitting into the sink, of the faucet screeching with effort.

Kuvira reappeared a few seconds later and watched Korra silently. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked finally, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.

“Just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Like?”

Korra sat up and leaned back against the opposite arm. “Like the usual. I feel like a broken record.”

Kuvira remained quiet for a long time, and then slid down onto the couch cushions. Korra instinctively moved her legs so Kuvira wouldn’t sit on them. “I’ll refrain from telling you the usual, then, just to avoid sounding repetitive.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They sat in awkward silence for several minutes, until finally, Kuvira spoke, “Okay, screw it. I can’t live like this. Just break up with him!”

“Shhh!” Korra kicked Kuvira’s thigh with her foot. “Are you insane?” she whispered.

Kuvira rolled her eyes, but whispered, “Look, I know this really hot guy at work that I would love to set you up with. He’s nice, he’s smart, and he makes a mean cup of coffee. Plus, he thinks you’re a bangin’ piece of ass.”

“He sounds charming, really, but no.”

“Korra, please drop the deadbeat in there and try something new for a change. I’m sure that once you get some actual good lovin’, your artistic constipation will be a thing of the past. I mean, when was the last time you had an orgasm, really?”

Korra groaned.

“Look, I’ve told you a million times, you can do better, much, much better, and you deserve much, much better. I’ll break up with him for you.” She started to rise, but Korra leaned forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her back down on the couch.

“You drive me nuts,” Korra declared, laughing slightly.

“Well, the feeling is mutual. Now, please stop moping and go to sleep, or I’ll be forced to do something drastic. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’ll go back to bed soon. I’m just going to hang out here for a bit and watch some late-night TV.”

“Whatever.” Kuvira shrugged and stood up. “Oh, I almost forgot, I don’t have to work tomorrow until late, so I can set up shop by the Met while you’re at class.”

“Thanks,” Korra said, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for her friend’s kindness. “I really appreciate that.”

“Oh it’s no problem, I love selling your paintings to all the clueless tourists. It’s fun.”

“I meant, for everything.”

“Thank me when you’re actually happy,” Kuvira answered with a smile. “Night.”

Korra sighed and grabbed the remote. She waited until Kuvira had disappeared into her room before clicking on the TV. She stared blankly at the flickering images on the screen, letting their hypnotic rhythm lull her to sleep.

\---

The clouds rolled by in search of definition, continuously shape shifting, as if afraid to be seen for what they really were. Asami sighed softly against the window of the limousine, watching the metamorphosis with a detached sense of fascination. She waited until the crocodile in the sky changed into something undecipherable before lowering her gaze.

“...and the flight back to L.A. leaves tomorrow morning at 8:15,” her assistant went on from her place beside Asami. “If that’s too early, I could try to reschedule for a later flight, but--”

“She’s not listening,” Bolin interrupted, and Asami looked at him briefly before turning back to the window. “What’s another word for ‘devour’?” he asked, his eyes not rising from the monitor of his laptop.

“Ingurgitate?” Opal offered.

Bolin made a mildly disgusted face.

“Consume,” Asami said, fully aware that it was the first time she’d spoken since they’d gotten in the car.

He did look at her, then, and smiled. “That might work.” The sound of his typing filled the air, and Asami pressed the side of her head against the window, closing her eyes.

“Okay, how does this sound?” Bolin cleared his throat. “She was consumed in a whirlwind of passion, completely enthralled by the feel of his lips—”

“What the hell are you reading?”

“Star Wars fanfiction,” he replied. “It’s not as profitable as writing for Hollywood, I’ll grant you, but all the fangirls love me.”

“That is wrong on so many levels,” Opal said. “Though, I can see where ‘ingurgitate’ might have been the wrong word.”

Bolin smiled to himself. “Actually, I’ve been bored while waiting on the green light for my next project.”

Asami arched a brow in his direction.

“I know you’re dying to know, Asami, but really, I must beg you to turn off your curiosity. Art cannot be corrupted by the contaminating influence of those above us. We, the few, the proud, the independent artistes, must stand strong against the evils of corporate America, and the temptation of the all mighty dollar.”

“You are so full of it,” Asami replied, chuckling. “You just know we’re going to laugh at you.”

“Well, there’s that,” Bolin admitted. “What can I say? I like keeping the world on its toes. I want the posters to read: ‘From writer-director Bolin comes yet another titillating and visionary ride, a suspenseful, edge-of-your-seat adventure about the trials and tribulations of fruit.’”

“Fruit?”

“They have feelings, too, you know. They make fascinating subjects. Also, their actor’s salaries are just within my budget.”

“Opal, could you please instruct the driver to pull over at the nearest mental institution?” Opal laughed.

Bolin shook his head and returned to his computer, muttering about Hollywood stars and their inability to comprehend art.

“It’s the Guggenheim!” Opal exclaimed suddenly, her face pressed so close to the window that her nose was squished against the glass. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“So go,” Asami said a second later. “I’ll give you the rest of the day off.”

Opal whirled around. “Are you nuts? Didn’t you hear the agenda for today?”

“No, she didn’t,” Bolin piped in.

“Bolin, could you tell the driver to pull over?” Asami turned to Opal and looked at her assistant seriously. “Let’s cancel everything for today. I have the flu.”

“No you don’t,” Opal said, just as seriously.

“It’s called pretend. I do it for a living.”

“You had the flu two weeks ago for that radio interview.”

“A migraine?”

“Two days ago for the morning talk show.”

“Well, it’s back with a vengeance.”

“Maybe you should get your head examined,” Bolin suggested. “Or was that already on the agenda?” He received a sharp look in reply.

As the vehicle rolled to a stop, Asami reached across Opal’s lap and opened her door. The outside world poured in, saturating the air with the pungent scent of city life and the strident melody of people struggling to co-exist. “Watch out for cars, and have fun.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Opal asked, looking at Asami with growing concern. Bolin twirled a finger around his ear.

“I’m fine. Go.”

Opal shrugged. “It’s your career. I’ll make the calls.” She reached for her cell phone and started out of the car. “See you guys later. Thanks, Asami,” were her final words before shutting the door.

“What are you doing?” Bolin asked the second the door closed.

“Taking a break from responsibility?”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. What’s with you?”

Asami sighed, not wishing to get into it. Whatever ‘it’ was. “I don’t know. I just feel...” Lost. She shrugged instead of finishing the statement. “I just need a break.”

Bolin softened his gaze. “Well, Guardian wraps up in a few weeks. You’ll get a chance to relax.”

Asami thought of the movie script offers sitting unread on her nightstand and she inwardly sighed. “Yeah...” Her gaze drifted back outside, to the sidewalks full of people moving about their lives. She wondered how many of them had agendas to keep? Perhaps they all did, in their own way. Yet she allowed herself the freedom to envy their anonymity.

The car stared moving again. “Where to?” Bolin asked her, but she ignored him. It was easier, in the end, to watch others live their lives, instead of attempting to give direction to her own. She leaned her head back and surrendered to the view, as stranger’s stories, lifetimes of experiences flew by in flashes of instantly forgotten images: as short films in fast-forward.

She longed to catch a glimpse of something meaningful in it all, though she knew, the way she knew she’d snap out of all of this soon, that there was nothing meaningful to find in the chaos of other’s lives. They were all stuck in the consequence of choices made by a distant, unrecognizable version of themselves. But in those seconds of stolen time, in those rare moments when reality didn’t knock as persistently upon the walls of consciousness, they could at least pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll post chapter 3 soon, don’t worry :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The day had dragged interminably. The minutes had frozen into hours.

She’d come back to Central Park on a whim, wishing only to escape the suffocating walls of the hotel room, wanting only to partake in something other than her own life. It was enough to sit there; concealed as she was beneath a wig and large sunglasses, and watch other lives go by in streams of fragmented conversations. It was enough just to simply blend in.

“Hey, aren’t you that chick from TV?”

Asami looked over to find Bolin walking toward her.

“How did you find me?”

“Opal inserted that nifty tracking device into your skull, didn’t you know? How else could she keep up with you?” Bolin looked around. “Nice day.”

“Yeah,” and Asami nodded. “How’d you really find me?”

“First of all, it’s rather presumptuous of you to assume I was looking for you. I happened to be jogging, minding my own business, when the sight of a young woman in a hideous wig startled me. Upon closer investigation I discovered that the woman was none other than my best friend.” He sat down beside her and smiled. “So there.”

“So you’re saying that you just happened to be here?”

“Yup.”

“And that you weren’t tipped at all by say... the hotel manager I spoke to on my way out?”

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

“Couldn’t be surer.”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Bolin said shrugging. “I may have heard something about you going to Central Park. I just thought it was an excellent idea.”

“Mmm, it was.” Bolin merely nodded, and Asami turned her attention away. They fell into amiable silence. “I was thinking,” Asami said, her voice soft against the stillness between them, “that I might want to move here. Maybe after the show’s over.”

When Bolin didn’t say anything, Asami turned to look at him, only to find that his attention was fixed on a blonde woman several feet away.

“Or maybe just have threesome with some elephants from outer space,” added casually.

“What?” Bolin turned to her in a second. “What threesome?” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Sorry. I was just... um...”

"Checking out the local meat?" Asami guessed.

"It's what's for dinner.”

Behind her sunglasses, Asami rolled her eyes. "Gross."

"There's nothing gross about the union of a man and a woman," Bolin replied. "Or even a man and two women. Or three..."

Asami laughed. "You can barely handle yourself, what are you going do with three women?"

“Hey!” Bolin frowned. “I’ll have you know I can handle myself just fine. Why—“

“T.M.I!” Asami interrupted quickly. “Really.”

“You started it.”

“So what do you think?”

“About?”

“About what I said earlier?”

Bolin ran his hand up and down the hair at the back of his head and looked thoughtful. “I think if you’re going to have a threesome, then you could do better than elephants. I mean, you’re not a bad looking girl, and elephants, well, they smell...”

Asami wanted to strangle him sometimes. “About me moving to New York after the show.”

“And leave L.A.?” He frowned. “But I thought you loved it there?”

“It was just a thought.” She shrugged it away as if it wasn’t important. After a moment, she sighed. “Should we head back?”

“I guess.” Bolin yawned and stood up. “Should we call Opal? Maybe she’d like a ride back to the hotel.”

“I’m sure she’s having a blast all on her own,” Asami answered, somewhat distracted by the tables of artwork along the way. She glanced at him briefly and smiled. “Unless you miss her...”

“Will you quit it with that? I do not have feelings for Opal.”

“Mmhmm.” She would have argued further, but then she saw it: a charcoal sketch drawn on simple canvas paper. She halted in her steps and stared at it for a long moment, unsure why she’d even stopped, unsure why she couldn’t just keep walking.

“Uh, you okay?”

She walked a few feet, and finally turned to Bolin and said, “Could you get that picture for me?”

Bolin glanced back at the item in question. “What am I, your slave?”

“Bolin,” Asami said, her voice edging toward annoyance. “I know Clark Kent could pull it off with a simple pair of glasses, but I don’t wanna push it.”

“Fine, fine.”

Asami watched him from several feet away. She rolled her eyes again at the sight of him flirting with the brunette behind the table. It took him far longer than necessary to get the picture and walk over to her, but once he did, she was too pleased with the purchase to mind.

“Here’s your picture, your highness.”

“Hitting on the artist were you?” Asami asked, distracted at once by the picture he’d handed her. She stared at it and smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, beautiful,” he said flatly, and they resumed their walk. “Actually, that wasn’t the artist. That was the artist’s friend. The artist’s very cute friend who just gave me her number. Although, admittedly, she did make me work for it.” He held up a business card for emphasis and flipped it over to the other side to illustrate a phone number written in green ink.

“I could see how awkward you were from here Bo.”

Bolin pocketed the card and smiled smugly. “Shush. One day you too could be this smooth.”

Asami didn’t glance at him as they walked. “I’m not sure smoothness is the problem,” and a trace of bitterness seeped through the words before she could help herself. She looked around, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell is my driver? I told him to wait.”

"Asami, you know I'm just teasing, right?" Bolin asked, suddenly serious. "I know it's tough for you."

She didn’t answer, stared down at the drawing in her hand instead and sighed.

“You’re not going to find anyone to love if you don’t let anyone get close to you.”

“I let you get close to me.”

“Yes, but much to my dismay, I don’t seem to be your type.”

“And therein lies the rub.”

\---

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Korra anxiously said before Kuvira could open her mouth. “It’s all Shakespeare’s fault. But look, I brought you fine New York cuisine.” She handed over the two hotdogs she’d bought from a street vendor.

“How touching.” Kuvira accepted Korra’s offerings and placed them down on the wooden foldout table. She was, in fact, starving. For hours she’d sat behind the carefully arranged pieces of Korra’s artwork, inhaling car exhaust and stupidity. For hours she’d listened to the sounds of beeping horns and angry, frustrated souls battling it out in the war zone of New York City traffic. She’d listened to a thousand out-of-context conversations, answered hundreds of questions – most of them having nothing to do with the art on display – and pointed dozens of people in the wrong direction. She was exhausted. “But Shakespeare’s been dead too long to be your scapegoat, and I think I deserve better than hotdogs.”

Korra considered Kuvira’s comment carefully before responding. “Fine, I’ll just double what I currently pay you.”

Kuvira gasped in mock surprise. “Double? Oh, no, Korra, that’s too much. I mean, that would be like, hmm, let’s see, two times zero equals – hold on, this is tough math – oh yes, zero. No, really, that’s too generous. Just give me fifty percent.”

“I’ll also throw in sexual favors from Mako.”

“Okay, that’s just gross. I’d rather sleep with this hotdog. Sauerkraut and all. Mmm. There’s really nothing better than phallic-shaped mystery meat cooked and served by hairy men beneath two-toned beach umbrellas.”

“Um, okay. I believe ‘anyway’ is in order. How’d we do today?”

“Rough day, but I did sell your baby.”

“What baby?”

Kuvira wiped at her mouth with a napkin before responding. “Your charcoal sketch, a.k.a. the love of your life. I sold it to a sweet guy. Even gave him my number.” She wiggled her eyebrows and took another bite.

“I wasn’t even sure I wanted to sell that one,” Korra said, visibly disappointed. “But, I guess if he liked it enough to buy it.”

“Mmhmm,” Kuvira agreed between mouthfuls. “I even doubled your asking price.”

“What? Why?”

Kuvira shrugged. “Well, he asked for my number, and I asked how badly he wanted it. Even though I’m not really interested in him. He stuttered and said, ‘How badly do you want me to want it?’ and I said, ‘Badly enough to pay double for this sketch.”

“And?”

“He didn’t even bat an eye. I should’ve tripled it.”

Korra laughed. “Only you can manage to do business and get a guy at the same time. I really should start paying you for this.”

“When you can afford to pay me, I’ll gladly accept a salary from you. In the meantime, here.” Kuvira held up an envelope and stood up. “Today’s winnings. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Off to work?”

“There’s no rest for the wicked. Is that how the saying goes?”

“What saying?”

“About the wicked?”

“The musical?”

“Never mind.” Kuvira gathered her belongings. “I’ll see you tonight. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Korra watched Kuvira until she disappeared in the crowd. Then she sat and looked around. Trying to sell her art was like getting slapped in the face repeatedly by unapologetic, uncaring hands. At the end of the day, or at least, at the end of most days, Korra couldn’t decide what hurt most: having her work blatantly ignored, or having it completely disregarded after closer inspection. And still, she came back, time after time, because sometimes, she got lucky. Sometimes, someone cared.

Her cell phone went off, the personalized ring tone disclosing the caller’s identity instantly. She struggled with the button on her cargo shorts, before managing to flip the device open and put it to her ear. “Hey, Mom,” she greeted her mother.

“Hi, sweetheart. Where are you? Why is it so noisy?”

“Oh, I’m at the park,” Korra answered. “Want me to call you back later?”

“No. I just wanted to tell you to come for dinner tomorrow. Tara said she has something important to tell us.”

“What does she want to tell us?”

“Hmm if I knew, I would tell you, wouldn’t I?”

“Haha. Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow, what time?”

“Six-thirty. And Tara said to bring Kuvira.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you.” When her mother hung up, Korra sat back in the chair and stared at the phone in slight confusion. What would her sister have to tell them?

“Could you tell me where the Guggenheim is from here?”

Korra looked up and inwardly sighed before saying, “Yeah, just cross the street and walk straight down. It’ll be on your right.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe I should start painting maps instead. She rolled her eyes and settled back against the chair. It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya’ll! I hope you’re intrigued so far. In the original story the artist has a sister and a brother. I kinda switched the brother and sister’s plots for this conversion. In this fic/story the brother isn’t a big part of the plot, so I decided to just kind of cut him out. However, the sister does have a bigger role. That being said, Korra has a sister haha. I decided to name her Tara, short for Katara. There will be other changes along the way, but I’ll do my best to explain them!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami sat on the pale cream carpet, her back against the edge of the bed, her features bathed in the traces of a setting sun. The conversation with Bolin had unsettled her. You’re never going to find someone to love, he’d said, as if things were so simple. As if she could go up to someone and say, “Hey, want to go on a date sometime?” and live happily ever after.

If only she could love Bolin.

If only she weren’t in the public eye.

If only...

She sighed and let her head fall back against the mattress. The sketch she’d purchased earlier sat beside her, staring back at her expectantly whenever she glanced in its direction. She still didn’t know why she hadn’t packed it along with everything else, or why she kept staring at it.

It wasn’t like her to be drawn to art, never having been one to spend time at galleries or museums. But there was something about the picture, about the loneliness it radiated, that called to Asami in a way she couldn’t explain. It made her feel less alone, sitting there in the silent room, watching as another pointless day faded into memory.

***

“I love you,” he said, turning to look at her from his place on the bed.

But Korra kept her gaze on the computer monitor, her Shakespeare paper a blank canvas on the screen. Do you? she wanted to ask, because she’d heard him, and because despite herself, she really wanted to know. “I love you, too,” she answered when the time for truth had passed and all that remained was the sense of expectation.

“Do you want to do something later?”

“I’m trying to write a paper,” she answered, looking at him, daring him to start a fight.

“After that.”

“I’m not sure there will be an ‘after’ this. I think it’s going to take all night.”

“How long can that possibly take?”

“Yeah, well I’m not good at papers,” she replied, an edge in her voice. “We’re not all geniuses in this room, remember?”

Mako sighed in thinly veiled exasperation. “Okay, look, I’ll just shut up and leave you to your homework.” He rolled off the bed and stood by the side of it for a moment, gazing down at Korra thoughtfully. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Can’t, family stuff.”

“What family stuff?”

“Tara wants to talk to us about something.”

“About what?”

“I can safely say that I have no idea.”

“Oh.”

Korra bit her lip and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I’d invite you—

“No, it’s okay. I guess I’m just not as part of the family as I thought.”

“Mako—

“Sorry,” he said. “If it’s a family thing, then it’s a family thing.”

Korra bit her lip, opting to leave out the fact that Kuvira had been asked to come along. “It’s more of an Tara thing.”

“And she hates me, right?”

Korra frowned up at her boyfriend. “She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t know you very well.”

“Yeah, well she doesn’t seem particularly keen on remedying that situation.”

Mako looked visibly upset, and Korra didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. It was true that her sister hadn’t taken to Mako; unlike the rest of her family, who practically worshipped him. She simply had no explanation as to why. “It’s just one evening. I’ll go, hear what Tara has to say, and then maybe we can get together when I get back.”

Mako nodded after a moment of reflection. “I’ll just wait for you here. Kuvira’s off tomorrow, right?”

Crap. Kuvira looked away, focused her gaze on the computer monitor and the awaiting paper, which seemed, at that moment, the lesser of all evils. “Um, actually, she’s coming with me.”

Mako’s silence unsettled her, and Korra forced herself to look at him. “Why?” he asked.

“Tara wants her there.”

Mako nodded. “I see.”

“They’ve known each other forever, Mako. It makes sense—”

“Save it, Korra. Just ... call me whenever.” The slamming door punctuated his statement.

“Great,” Korra muttered, shifting to adjust the weight of the laptop on her lap. “Just great.”

***

The hotel restaurant was as upscale as it was noisy. The mutter of conversation threatened to drown even the distinct sounds of clattering silverware, as the VIPs in the room chattered on in dull, monotonous voices. Asami stifled a yawn, and stirred her drink. “This place is lame.”

“I know,” Bolin agreed, drawing his glass of beer toward his lips and taking a sip.

“Oh I don’t know,” Opal piped in, “I kind of like it.”

“That’s because you’re lame,” Bolin replied, and Asami laughed softly. “We should’ve gone somewhere else for dinner. It’s our last night in New York.”

“Until next time,” Asami answered. “Provided you’re still unemployed and bored.”

Bolin frowned and leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m not unemployed. I’m between projects.”

“Well, if you need a quick paycheck, I’m sure I can find you something,” Asami replied.

“No, thank you.” Bolin reached for his beer again. “I want nothing to do with your seedy Hollywood money.”

“Oh, good, then I guess you’re paying for dinner.” Asami picked up the menu. “Mmm, good thing I’m starved.”

Bolin smiled. “I’m here merely as a favor to you, Smarty Pants, and you know it.”

“And I appreciate it.” Asami turned serious for a moment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“Oh, gag,” Opal said. “It’s no wonder people keep asking me when you two are tying the knot. You’re nauseating.”

“I love you so much Bolin.”

“And I love you, Asami. My heart beats–“

“I beg you to stop. For the sake of my appetite.”

Asami smiled to herself. “So, Bolin, are you going to call her?”

“And the cryptic use of pronouns was lost on him,” Bolin said, by way of an answer.

Opal leaned forward. “Call who?”

“Bolin got a girl’s number today,” Asami revealed. She so enjoyed watching Bolin squirm. “He seems to have a thing for brunettes.”

Bolin’s eyes widened in horror, and he glanced nervously at Opal, who tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

I’m so going to pay for that, Asami mused, but she didn’t care. It was entirely too entertaining. “So,” she said, casually, “are you going to call her?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said, while his eyes tossed daggers in her direction.

Asami shook her head. “I’ll never understand you. Why bother getting her number if you have no intention of calling it?”

“What’s the point of calling her when I’m leaving tomorrow?”

“To say, ‘Hey, I’m just calling so you don’t think I’m an asshole.’”

“Oh yeah, that’s charming.” Bolin shook his head.

Asami shrugged. “I’m just saying if it were me, I’d want you to call. Opal, wouldn’t you want him to call?”

“Um...”

“See, she’d want you to call.”

Bolin rolled his eyes and reached into his back pocket. A second later, he produced the card with the number in question. He placed it in front of Asami . “If you care so much, you call her.”

“Now that I’d like to see,” Opal stated.

Asami glanced at the card, then up at Bolin and Opal. They were both watching her expectantly.

After a moment of consideration, she reached for her cell phone.

***

“... and then he slammed the door,” Korra concluded. She licked the ice cream off the spoon and shook her head. “He’s so infuriating sometimes.”

Kuvira nodded, reaching across the table to dip her own spoon into the tub of Cherry Garcia. “Well, I, for one, am glad he’s not going with us tomorrow. There’s only so much of Mako I can take before wanting to poke my eyes out with a rusty fork.”

“That paints a lovely image, thanks.”

“Speaking of painting--”

“No, I didn’t,” Korra answered before the full question was finished. “I haven’t painted a thing in two weeks.”

“I maintain it’s sexual frustration.”

“Noted.”

“So, how’s the paper coming? Did you finish?”

“I’m sitting here eating ice cream and whining about my boyfriend. Of course I haven’t finished. I got as far as--” The telephone interrupted the rest of her statement. “Ugh, I’ll get it. I’m sure it’s Mako, calling to yell some more.” She reached for the receiver, while simultaneously licking ice cream from the side of her mouth and standing. If she was going to get into another fight, she needed space to move around. “If you’re calling to continue the fight, Mako, don’t bother,” she began, and Kuvira instantly gave her the thumbs up.

“And before you say anything,” she continued, spurred on by Kuvira’s support, “I think it’s really shitty of you to get mad at me because my sister chose not to include you in her personal affairs. Sometimes, you really are a spoiled little brat, you know? And I’m getting tired of being your little lapdog. I’m sorry, if Tara isn’t as in love with you as the rest of my family is, but I can’t do anything about it. And if you think I’m just going to sit here and feel guilty because my family doesn’t include you in every little event, then you’re sadly mistaken. So, the next words out of your mouth better be, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Silence greeted her, save for a lot of background noise.

“Mako?” Korra pressed.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” said the female voice. “Wrong number.”

Korra lowered the receiver from her ear and closed her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Kuvira asked. “Korra?”

“It, uh, wasn’t Mako,” she answered after a second.

Kuvira dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.

***

Asami placed the cell phone back on the table and regarded her companions. “Sorry, Bo, looks like she’s already cheating on you.”

“But you didn’t say anything,” Opal stated.

“Believe me, I didn’t have to.” Asami smiled. “Think she was expecting someone else. A male someone.”

Bolin crossed his arms. “Guess she moves on fast. And here I thought I was the player.”

“All the world’s a stage...” Asami replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going out of town tomorrow, so I’m going to try and upload Chapter 5 before my flight!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“God I hate Shakespeare.”

“That came out of left field,” Kuvira replied, as the raggedy old elevator came to a stop on the 12th floor.

As they stepped out into the shabby hallway that led to Korra’s mom’s apartment, Korra let out a frustrated groan. “Sorry, it’s that damn paper. I was up all night, and I still didn’t finish. I suck at writing.”

“Look at the bright side, I sold two of your photographs and one of your sketches today.”

Korra brightened at the news. “Yeah?” She knocked on the door marked 122C. “When were you planning on telling me that?”

Kuvira shrugged. “Was gonna wait ‘til the next time you got mad at me...but I figured this was a good a time as any.”

Before Korra had a chance to reply, the door opened and she was swept into hug. Her sister, Tara, kissed her cheek several times before letting go. "Hi, you!" she announced.

It had been a few months since Korra had last seen her, and as Tara turned to hug Kuvira, she took the opportunity to observe how well she was looking. Her dark brown hair was slightly longer than when she’d last seen her. She looked taller and fitter than Korra remembered. “Have you been working out?”

Tara winked at her. “Joined a gym.” She flexed her arm as evidence.

Korra glanced quickly at Kuvira who was making a show of fanning herself. She laughed.

Senna stepped into view a second later. She dried her hands on her skirt as she walked toward them. “Korra,” she greeted Korra with a kiss on the cheek, and then turned to greet Kuvira. When she stepped away from the girls, she said, “Tonraq went to the store for some groceries. He’ll be back soon.” She ushered them toward the living room. “Come, sit. I'll bring you something to drink.”

Korra sat down as instructed and gazed around the apartment. It was small by anybody's standards. The living room barely fit the couch she was sitting on; but it was home. Paintings and framed pictures of the Southern Tribe decorated the walls. Korra hadn’t been there since she was really little, but her dad and Tara spoke of its beauty all the time. The people there, including her parents, are very conservative in nature, but slowly becoming more open to change. They'd moved to New York shortly after Senna gave birth to Korra.

“So how’s the art world these days?”

Korra glanced up into Tara’s curious blue eyes and shrugged. She didn’t want to say that she’d reached the end of a creative road. “Good,” she said instead and tried to convince herself that it wasn’t a lie. It was almost too easy to forget that she hadn’t done anything in weeks.

“I sold some of her stuff today while she was at class,” Kuvira boasted proudly. “And tons of people stopped to look and compliment the artwork.”

“There is unfortunately no money in art,” Senna announced, returning from the kitchen with a tray of orange juice. “But no one ever listens to their mother.”

Korra smiled, accepting a glass. “I listen to you.”

“You listen to me?” and her mother rolled her eyes. She placed the tray down and sat down on the couch beside Tara. “How many times have I told you to wear something nicer than a tank top or hoodie? I don’t know how Mako puts up with you looking like that all of the time.”

Korra glanced down at her paint-stained jeans and baggy blue sweatshirt. “What’s wrong with this?”

Senna replied with a look that obviously meant the question did not dignify a response. “I’m just glad you’ll have Mako to take care of you, is all I’m going to say. Lord knows that boy is going places.”

Tara cleared her throat. "Well, I'm pretty certain Korra is capable of taking care of herself," she said.

"Well of course she is," Senna agreed in a somewhat defensive tone. "But every woman needs a man to take care of her in this world. And vice versa."

Tara dropped her gaze and took a sip of her drink without further comment.

Though she was used to the one-on-one debates between her mother and sister, Korra couldn’t help but wonder if they realized she was sitting there. It was strange to feel like an abstract concept, molded this way and that by the gravitational pull of opposing ideas.

Perhaps she would’ve said something then, voiced thoughts that only presented themselves in the quiet moments between words. Perhaps she would have, if the door hadn’t opened then.

Tonraq entered the small apartment with a bag of ice over his shoulder and grocery bags in his hands. Korra respected her father, loved him as a Dad, but she struggled to understand his mindset at times.

Tara rose at once to help, and Tonraq passed on the items to his daughter before greeting his other daughter.

“Hi, beautiful,” he called her, and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Korra smiled.

“Hello, Kuvira,” he said, kissing her cheek as well. “How’s the coffee-selling business?”

“It’s quite the marvel, Tonraq,” Kuvira answered, brightening at the mention of coffee. “It takes special skill to brew the stuff just right.”

“You must be very proud,” Tonraq said, in a tone that managed not to sound sarcastic. He greeted his wife with a peck on the lips and sat beside her. “Are you girls staying for dinner?”

Korra shook her head. “I have a lot of homework, actually.”

“I don’t,” Kuvira said, pouting. “I love your mom’s cooking.”

Senna beamed proudly.

“So what’s all this big announcement stuff?” Tonraq pulled up a chair and plopped down on it, slouching down and looking bored.

Everyone looked expectantly at Tara, as if remembering for the first time that she was the reason for the family reunion.

Tara reclaimed her seat and stared at everyone in turn. Her mood turned suddenly dark and she swallowed. “Um...”

“Did you get some kind of trouble with the police?” Kuvira guessed.

“No...” Tara stared down at her hands.

Korra stared at her sister in concern. She’d never seen Tara look so sullen. Worry and dread rose to the forefront of her emotions and she struggled to imagine what Tara could possibly have to say. “Are you moving?” It wasn’t the worst thing she could imagine, but it was up there.

But Tara just shook her head.

Kuvira guessed again: “Joining the army?”

“Getting married?”

“I’m gay,” Tara said, glancing up.

The room fell deathly silent, as everyone absorbed the information. The cup fell from Senna’s hand, spilling the remainder of her juice across the ivory carpet. And like a flag marking the start of a race, there was an eruption of shouting.

Korra sank down in the couch, not yet able to muster a response, while all around her, her family spiraled out of control.

Tonraq was on his feet, his voice lost in a sea of words that Korra could not distill.

Tara rose, her jaw clenched.

Korra glanced at her mother in alarm, hoping she’d step between them and stop things before they got out of control. But her mother was out of control herself, lost to sobs and whispered prayer.

“Tara,” Korra said in a voice that was not her own.

And her sister glanced at her quickly, her eyes searching Korra’s for... something. Korra didn’t know how to help her at that moment, didn’t know how to make things better.

As Tonraq rambled on about morality, Tara seemed to understand what she was trying to say, even if Korra herself didn’t. She glanced back at her father, eyes filled with anger and pain, and then she quickly walked out of the apartment.

"Damn it!" Tonraq cursed. Without a glance in anyone’s direction, he disappeared down the hallway. A second later, a door slammed closed.

Senna smoothed the length of her skirt as she stood from the couch. She wiped at her tears and excused herself before following after her husband.

Korra stared at the empty living room with a detached sense of confusion. What had just happened to her family?

“Well,” Kuvira said, and Korra had almost forgotten she was there, “that went well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original story the parents are homophobic, so I unfortunately had to make Korra’s parents homophobic. Did I want to? No, but for the sake of coherence in this story, I had to. I’m feeling nice, so I might upload another chapter today. 2 chapters in a day? Crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Definitely not straight,” Asami decided. “What do you think?”

Opal, who stood beside her, cocked her head to the side and contemplated the question for a long while. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?” Asami looked again at the framed picture hanging over her bed. “It looks a little crooked to me.”

“Well, which way do you want me to shift it?”

“Left. No, right. No.” Asami bit her lip and stepped closer. “Maybe it is straight.”

“Does that mean we can stop obsessing over this now?” Opal reached for her bag. “Not that it’s not beautiful or anything, because it is, but I’ve been dragging the damn thing to every frame shop in Los Angeles ever since we got back, and honestly, I think the first frame was perfectly fine. So were the next twelve. And the only thing that’s not straight in this room is your answer about the TV Guide cover. So which is it: are you in, are you out? The people need to know.”

Asami sighed, but nodded. “I’m in.”

“Okay, but that means you’ll have to reschedule your dinner with...” Opal paused as she flipped through several pages of notes. “Andrea Jeffies.”

Asami headed for the door, assistant firmly in tow. Halfway down the stairs, she paused. “Who the hell is Andrea Jeffies?”

“She’s a director,” Opal prompted. “She wanted to talk to you about a role in her film.” Pause. “Asami, you spoke to her yesterday. You told me to schedule her in.”

Asami vaguely recalled such a conversation. She pondered the name as she continued her descent. “Right,” she said, finally remembering. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up at Opal. “Call her back, cancel, don’t reschedule.”

“Um, okay...?”

“I finished the script last night.” Asami made a face to illustrate disgust.

“That bad?”

“Let me put it this way: Yes.” She continued onward, toward the living room. “It started out fine. I thought, ‘Hey, this could be a pretty decent role,’ and then the aliens come to Earth to procreate with the human race, and my character gets eaten by a weird plant/monkey hybrid.”

“Say no more. Dinner cancelled.”

Asami sighed and plopped down onto her plush leather sofa. “Why can’t I just land something... challenging, you know?”

“Well, if challenging is what you’re looking for, here’s something: your dad called to remind you about your step brother’s play in two weeks. If you can’t make that, you absolutely, have to make it to the after-dinner at eight, or – and I quote – ‘he will never ever speak to you ever again.’” 

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” 

Opal smiled and sat down beside the actress. “You should at least make the dinner. You shouldn’t piss your father off too much, because then I have to deal with him, and we both know I hate him. No offense.”

“None taken. Maybe I’ll drag Bolin along. They always act at least halfway human when he’s around. Act being the operative word.” Asami caught the strange look that passed across Opal’s face and she arched a brow. “What?”

“What?” Opal was looking at her pen. “Nothing.” She coughed. “You should call Bolin. He might be free. I mean, not that I think he would not be free – cause how would I know? I just mean, uh... oh, shit, I’m late for yoga.” She stood, and started toward the front door. “Call me if you need anything else. The, uh... the frame looks great.” Door opened. Door closed.

Asami sat frozen in place for about two minutes before finally reaching for her phone.

Bolin picked up on the second ring. “Hey, it’s me,” she said.

“I know it’s you. What’s – oh wait, got another call. Hold on.”

Asami waited patiently, and then impatiently. She was about to hang up and call back when he switched over.

“Um, Asami, can I call you back?”

Asami frowned. “Sure...” She heard the click, and was once about to hang up when Bolin’s voice came back in a big rush.

“Do you think she knows? I mean, what did you say? Was it obvious? Do you think that’s why she’s calling? Crap. I knew we should’ve told her. She’s going to freak out. What exactly did you say?”

Asami scratched her forehead, trying to piece together the pieces of this suddenly intriguing puzzle.

“Opal?” Bolin prompted. “Are you still there?”

Opal and Bolin. Bolin and Opal. Asami narrowed her eyes. The sneaky bastards! How long had this been going on? She started laughing. “Oh you two are so busted.”

“A-Asami?”

“So busted.”

“Uh...”

“When did this happen?”

“It’s not what you think,” Bolin said quickly. “It’s not like we’re... you know, dating or anything.” He said the word “dating” as if it were a disease. “It was just sex. Once. Okay, twice. The third time doesn’t really count.”

“Ah-huh.”

“And we were going to see a movie tomorrow night, but that’s it.”

“Mmhmm.”

“We were going to tell you. It’s just... it just sort of happened, and we weren’t really sure what to tell you, since you know, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” Asami repeated, amused. “Of course.”

Bolin let out a deep breath. “Are you mad?”

“Yup, totally pissed,” Asami answered, smiling. “So, when did this ‘nothing’ start?”

“New York. The last night we were there. We both had too much to drink and...”

“And then the nothing happened?”

“Right.”

“I knew you liked her,” Asami said. “I just had no idea she liked you back.”

“Neither did I,” Bolin admitted. “You know, cause of the gay thing.”

Asami frowned. “What gay thing?”

“Opal’s.”

“Opal has a gay thing?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you knew? I mean she was like in love with y– I’m saying too much. I am. I need to shut up before she kills me. No gay thing. There are no gay things, except mine. I am very, very gay.”

“Bolin, what the hell are you talking about? Opal’s not gay.”

“That’s right.” He paused. “She’s bi. But if you tell her I told you, I swear to God, I will... I will... well I will be really pissed at you for a very long time.”

Asami rubbed her temple with her free hand. This was way too much information to process in one phone conversation. “Okay. Look, I really don’t care that you and Opal are dat—“

“We’re not dating!”

“Fine, that you and Opal are nothing-ing or whatever, but please, please, don’t break her heart and make her hate you because I really, really need her to remain my assistant.”

“Spoken like a true romantic.”

“Bolin, I’m serious.”

“As am I. Are you sure you don’t want me to set you up on a date? I know someone. Very discreet.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Just don’t tell her about the g...”

Bolin’s voice faded as Asami took the phone off her ear. A second later, she shut it off. She stared at the device in her hand, not really looking at it. Bolin and Opal. And Opal was bi. Why hadn’t Opal told her that? Not that they were best friends or anything, but still. Then again, it wasn’t like Asami had been particularly forthcoming with any personal details of her own. 

She looked blindly at the receiver for a second longer, and then put it back on its base. She stood once that task was finished and made her way back to her bedroom.

It’s not straight, Asami thought, glancing up at the picture as she crawled into bed. “But then, that’s probably appropriate,” she said, to no one and nothing in particular. She sighed and reached for the book on her nightstand.

The card fell onto the bedspread from somewhere between the pages, and Asami stared down at the white, rectangular shape resting against her navy blue covers. The name Korra stared up at her in black, bold letters. Beneath the name: an email address.

She hesitated briefly, putting the book back on the nightstand. She picked the business card up, and held it in front of her. She didn’t know why she’d kept the card, but she knew it had something to do with the fact that the artist’s name was on one side of it.

Minutes passed as Asami contemplated the ridiculous notion of emailing a perfect stranger. Why shouldn’t she? Surely an artist would want to be complimented on their work? She glanced at the computer on her desk and back at the card. What would she even say?

Moments later, propelled forward by unidentifiable means, she sat at her desk and hit a random key, bringing her laptop to life. A picture of a sunset stared back at her, and she moved the cursor on her screen until her browser opened. She couldn’t email this person as herself, could she? No, she decided, signing up for a new email account. She filled the name as Sami Taso, opting for her nickname, and an anagram of her last name.

Registration completed, compose email screen opened, she typed the email address written on the card, wrote ‘Your Art’ into the subject line, and sat back.

After a minute, she began to type:

_Korra,_

_I’m not sure if you’re used to receiving emails from strangers or not, but I couldn’t keep myself from writing to say that I really love the art piece I purchased from you last week. I’m not much of an art critic, and don’t pretend to know much about it. However, when I saw your sketch, it took my breath away. And since few things in life have such an effect on me, I figured the least I could do was let you know._

_I don’t reside in New York, but if I ever find myself there again, I wondered: do you have your work on display at a gallery? Or should I simply take my chances at Central Park again?_

_Thank you for your time._

_Sincerely,_

_Sami Taso_

Asami read over her words, feeling like a monumental fool.

The cursor hovered over the ‘send’ button, while her mind registered a thousand different reasons why this was a bad idea; something she was certain to regret twenty minutes after the fact; something that would haunt her into the wee hours of the morning while she tossed and turned in bed, thinking, Whyyyyyy did I send that?

And yet, she clicked anyway.

Email sent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first email has been sent. Many more to come :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“You look joyful this evening.” Kuvira walked into Korra’s bedroom and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.” Kuvira nodded, and popped open the can of soda she was holding. After a long sip, she asked, “Any updates from the family about you-know-who admitting she’s you-know-what?”

Korra sighed, placing the laptop next to her on the bed and leaning forward. “I’m pretty sure they’ve gone into complete denial at this point. Mom called earlier and she didn’t even mention it. It’s as if it never happened.”

“So, what, they’re just going to pretend she’s straight?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Have you talked to Tara yet?”

“No. I honestly have no idea what to say to her.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t care what you say, as long as she knows you support her.” Kuvira cocked her head to the side. “You do support her, right?”

Korra looked pointedly at her best friend. “Of course I do! It’s just... it’s Tara, you know? Tara. I just can’t picture her... you know...”

“Taking it up the—“

“Aaargh!” Korra covered her ears until she was certain it was safe to unclog them. “That’s not quite what I meant. I just don’t picture her, being ... gay. She’s just Tara, my geeky—“

“Extremely hot...”

“Sister.”

“Why are the hot ones always gay? How is the human race expected to survive if only the ugly people are breeding, you know?” She paused. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Thanks for that.”

“I’m just saying, there’s going to come a point when no one is going to want to sleep with each other because everyone is too damn ugly.”

“Mmm, I’m not sure about that. Sometimes, really ugly people have really good looking kids.”

Kuvira looked incredulous. “Like who?”

“I don’t know! People.”

Kuvira shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Ah well, it’s not like all the gay people aren’t breeding these days anyway. Wonder if she’s got a girlfriend.”

Korra thought about it. “You think? Hm. I wonder what kind of girl Tara would be dating.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” Korra decided.

“Or just drop by unannounced so she doesn’t have time to hide her gal pal. You think Tara’s into orgies? She looks like the kinky type.”

“Stop it with the creepy thoughts.”

“Sorry. Oh, speaking of creepy, where’s Mako tonight?”

“Debate team practice.”

“Ugh, lame.” Kuvira made a face. “So when are you dumping him?”

Korra sighed and sunk down into the pillows behind her. “Do we really have to have this conversation again?”

“Yes, because I’ve got hot guys lined up for a chance to date you, and they’re not going to wait forever. Wake up and smell the testosterone.”

Korra smiled. “What makes you think I’d jump at the chance to date any of these guys?”

“Ah, hello, did I mention the hot part? First, there’s John. He’s training to be an Olympic swimmer. Swimmer, Korra.”

“I’m familiar with the word...”

“Then I’d hope you’re also familiar with the hotness of swimmers’ bodies. Then there’s Chris. He’s not a swimmer, but he’s still hot in a rock-and-roll sort of way. Plus, how cute would it be if you dated a guy named Chris?”

“I’ll go with not at all.”

“Fine. Lastly, and I’ve saved the best for last, there’s Adam. He’s got the most gorgeous dark brown eyes you will ever see in your life, and he’s an artist.”

Despite herself, Korra was intrigued. “What kind of artist?”

“He’s a sculptor,” Kuvira said, and it was obvious she was pleased with herself. “He even goes to NYU, which is where he’s seen you.” 

“Really?” Korra couldn’t recall noticing any male sculptors with gorgeous dark brown eyes at school. “I don’t think I’ve seen him.”

“Well, he’s certainly seen you.”

“And you know this how?”

“I know many things, Korra. I am like the Oracle of the Village.” She paused. “So if you’re not interested in the swimmer guy, can I have him?”

Korra laughed. “You can have all three of them.”

“Mmm,” she laughed and got up. “I’ll leave you to your cybering, or whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted. TV calls. Want to join me later? I think there’s a really bad vampire movie on.”

“Count on it. Let me just finish up with my email. I have to write to Professor Satan and ask for an extension on that damn Shakespeare paper.”

“You still haven’t finished it?”

Korra sighed. “Do you think having a sister come out of the closet counts as a family emergency?”

“Not in New York City.” Kuvira laughed and walked out the door.

Left alone, Korra picked up the laptop again and regarded the screen. She had no idea what to write back to her father. She had no idea what excuse to give to her professor. And she had no idea who Sami Taso was. Frowning, she clicked on the mysterious email titled “Your Art”.

After reading it over several times, excitement began to overshadow her initial confusion and disbelief. Wow, was all she could think, and she somehow contained her giddiness long enough to hit reply.

_ Dear Ms. Sami _

Korra paused after that, trying to think of something to write that wouldn’t sound completely idiotic.

_ Thank you, I’m so pleased you _

So pleased that what? That she thinks I’m a good artist? That she liked the art she bought? I can’t say that. She deleted her initial response and tried again.

_ Thank you for being so kind as to write to me. I can honestly say no one has ever done that before. _

God, I sound like such a loser. Why don’t I just put ‘squeeee’ in the subject line and be done with it? She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_ If you don’t mind me asking, which piece did you buy? I can’t help but be curious, as this is the first time anyone has ever written to me about my art. _

_ I don’t have any of my work in a gallery, though perhaps some day, if I’m lucky. In the meantime, you can always find me at Central Park should you ever find yourself in New York again. _

_ Again, thank you so much for writing to me. I can’t express how nice it felt to read your email. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Korra  _

After running the spell checker three times, she finally hit send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m flying home today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to post a chapter tonight. So I’m posting one now. I hope you enjoyed it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami sighed without looking up from the book she was reading. “You’re in my sun.”

“Is that any way to greet your best friend? It’s been at least two hours since our last conversation. Haven’t you missed me?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got into my house.”

“Opal dropped me off. She’s got keys.” Bolin pulled the nearest lounge chair closer and sat down. He looked around the pool area for a minute before continuing. “I tried the doorbell but I guess you didn’t hear it.”

“I heard it,” Asami said pointedly.

“So you were just ignoring me? I thought maybe you’d fallen and couldn’t get up. I came to rescue you from certain death.”

“Or maybe I was out?”

Bolin let out a long laugh. “Right.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I was with Opal. Considering the fact that we make up your entire social circle, odds are that you’d be home.” He nodded at the book. “Reading.”

“I resent that.”

“Because it’s true...”

“It is not. There are a million places I could be at the moment, and a hundred people I could be with.”

“And yet, you’re with your book.”

“It’s a good book.”

“Which brings me back to my original point.”

“Which is?”

“That if you’re not with Opal or myself, you’re usually alone.”

Asami sighed. What was the point of arguing when she knew he was right? “Speaking of being alone, could I get back to that?”

“Well, fine... next time you don’t answer your door I’ll just let you lie there, all naked--”

“Naked?”

“I figured you’d be naked.”

Asami shook her head and put a bookmark in her book. “Does your girlfriend know you’re picturing me naked?”

“First, she’s not my girlfriend. And second, I didn’t say I was picturing you naked, only that you were naked.”

Asami arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, I pictured you naked, but in my defense I picture you naked a lot less frequently now than I did when we first met. Besides, that bikini you’re wearing right now doesn’t leave much to the imagination anyway, so--”

“Okay, just stop talking. What did you come here for that was so important you had break in?”

“How can I stop talking if you ask me a question? Do you want me to answer it by batting my eyelashes in Morse code?”

“Remind me again why we’re friends?”

“Is that what we are?” He smiled, but then turned serious. “The truth is, I need to talk to you about something important... and you have to promise not to fly off the handle. You’re not PMSing by any chance, are you?”

“If I were, you’d probably be dead right now.”

“Excellent.” Bolin scratched the back of his head nervously. “How much do you trust Opal?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I just mean,” Bolin said slowly, “do you consider her a friend? You know, the kind of friend you might, I don’t know, confide in?”

“Why?”

Bolin coughed. “Well...”

“What did you tell her?” Asami demanded.

“Nothing!” Bolin said quickly. “I swear. I haven’t told her anything. It’s just...”

“Yes...?”

“I just think ... that maybe you should. You know, tell her.”

“Tell her what, Bolin?”

He met her gaze. “You know what.”

Asami frowned and shook her head. “Why? It’s none of her business.”

“I know that, it’s just that... well, see...”

“Yeah?”

“She thinks that maybe ...”

“Just spit it out, Bolin!”

“Okay. Okay.” Bolin took a deep breath. “See, she’s gotten it into her head that you have feelings for me, and she wants to break things off because she thinks that at any moment you’re going to admit that you’re in love with me, and I’m going to come running to you. She’s also freaking out that you’re going to fire her out of jealousy.”

Asami found the thought so ridiculous that she laughed. “That’s insane,” she said.

“From your perspective, maybe, which is why I think you should just tell her the truth. It’s not like she wouldn’t understand. And I mean, really, it should be me worried here. The second she knows you’re gay she’s gonna dump me and go after you.” He frowned. “You’re not into her, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bolin.” Asami sighed, rubbing her temples.

“It might help you to tell someone who really understands, anyway. I’m the only one you’ve told and what the hell do I know about it?”

Asami sighed, not wishing to get into this particular topic of conversation. All she’d wanted was a day in the sun, perhaps a dip in the pool, or a walk on the ocean. She made sure to keep thoughts of her sexuality as far away from her conscious mind as humanly possible.

“Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it’s going to go away,” Bolin said softly. “I get that you’re not going to change. I mean, if you can resist my charms all of these years...”

Asami looked away.

“Some day you’re going to meet someone you really like and you’re going to have to face things.”

“Maybe, but I’d rather that time not be now.” She chewed on her bottom lip, looking around beyond the vanishing edge pool to the ocean beyond. “It’s not that I don’t trust Opal,” she said, turning back to her best friend. “I’m just not ready for anyone else to know. First it’s Opal, and then it’s someone else, and someone else, and...” She looked away again. “I share too much of myself already, Bolin. My life is hardly my own. I can’t control half the things they say about me in the press. I can’t control the pictures they put on the Internet, or the rumors that get spread. But this, I feel like, for now, this I can control, because no one would ever guess it. And if they can’t guess it, then they can’t hurt me with it.”

“You can’t keep this up forever, Asami.”

“Was it your goal to depress me today? If so, congratulations.”

“Thanks, I try. While I’m on a roll with that, the other thing I came to tell you today, Asami, is that I’m going to have to break up with you.”

Asami smiled. “Shocker.”

“Not that it hasn’t been fun being your muscle,” Bolin added. “But, I’m sorry to say, you’re horrible in bed.”

“If you tell that to the press, I will have you hunted down and killed,” Asami said with a laugh. “I do have a reputation to maintain.”

“I’m sure the tabloid’s number one hot chick will have no trouble replacing me.”

“No one could ever replace you, Bolin, which is why I shall never date another man so long as I live.”

“Good. Though, about Opal...”

Asami studied her best friend for a long moment. Finally, she smiled. “She’s got you seriously whipped.”

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

“Asami, I am entirely unwhippable. I’m impervious to— Oh hey, Opal.”

“Impervious to what?” Opal asked. She slid closed the glass doors that led into the house and walked over.

“Impervious to acid damage,” Bolin continued smoothly. “And next level, I’ll have a weapon that can freeze up to ten bad guys at once.”

“Oh, not that stupid video game again.” Opal made a face. “Asami, I picked up your dry cleaning and put it in the closet --”

“Just where Asami likes things,” Bolin said.

Both Opal and Asami turned to him. Asami glared while Opal just looked confused.

Bolin shrugged. “What? Asami is very organized. She likes things in their rightful place.”

“Okay, whatever,” Opal said, turning back to Asami. “And your agent faxed a copy of a new script she wanted you to look at. She also said to call her.”

“Thanks, Opal.”

Opal and Bolin exchanged a strange look that Asami didn’t understand, but that soon caused Bolin to say, “Um, I’ll be inside. I have to... um... file my nails. See ya.”

Asami watched him go before turning back to Opal, who was now sitting on the lounge chair Bolin had previously occupied.

“I know you know that Bolin and I...” She waved her hands as if that illustrated the rest of the sentence. “And I know you guys have been friends for a really long time, and if you feel that Bolin and I being... you know... would interfere with my being your assistant or even your... friend, then...”

“Opal,” Asami said, “I really don’t care that you’re sleeping with Bolin. I really wouldn’t care if you guys started dating, or if years from now you got married, had children, and all that jazz. Really. As long as your relationship with him doesn’t affect the work you do for me, then I’ve got no problems with it.”

“Okay, good. I really wouldn’t want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable. I know you care about him—“

“As a friend,” Asami quickly interrupted.

“Yeah,” Opal smiled, though Asami could see the uncertainty behind her eyes.

“Opal,” Asami began hesitantly. “The truth is...”

“Look, Asami, I understand, really. I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to ‘officially’ date him, but I know it’s only a matter of time before—”

“I’m gay,” Asami said, interrupting the rest of Opal’s monologue. She let the word hang in the air between them.

“You...you...you’re...”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Opal squeaked. She coughed. “Fine. I .. um .. you’re ... I mean ... really?”

“Really... really.”

“And this is... this is new?”

“Well, I knew when I was fifteen, and now I’m twenty-five so... I guess it depends what you mean by ‘new’?”

Opal’s eyes widened. “Fifteen?”

Asami would have been amused by Opal’s reaction had she not been so petrified at the same time. She’d blurted it out without planning to. Almost in the same way she’d told Bolin the day he’d tried to kiss her. Perhaps it was the easiest way to do it; like ripping off a band-aid.

“I’m sorry, Asami, I think you’ve short-circuited my brain or something. I honestly had no idea. You’d think my gaydar would be a little sharper, considering...” She chewed on her bottom lip, but opted not to continue.

“Bolin is the only other person who knows,” Asami said. “And it’s just... it’s not something I actively think about or wish to discuss or anything. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t think that I was in any way attracted to Bolin.”

“Oh. Is that why he wanted to talk to you? He wanted to convince you to tell me...”

“It was more of a suggestion,” Asami said. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t trust you, Opal. It’s obviously not something I want getting out.”

Opal looked at Asami for a long time. “Thanks for confiding in me,” she said finally. “Really, Asami, I... I’ve always wanted to be more than just your friend—“ Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly said, “Assistant! More than just your assistant.”

Asami smiled.

“Sorry, that didn’t come out right at all.” Opal was blushing, and clearly flustered by her slip-up. “I just meant, that I’ve always wanted to be your friend, and I really appreciate you trusting me with this.” She frowned and shook her head. “I’m just a bit shocked.”

Asami didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.

“So... so, is there... someone...?”

“No,” Asami said. “No one at all.”

“Okay...” Opal nodded and continued to chew on her bottom lip. “Because I might know some girls that— “

“Opal...”

“They’d be very discreet.”

“Please don’t make me hurt you.”

Opal smiled. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your book.” She stood up. “I’m taking Bolin shopping for a new Xbox controller. He accidentally dropped his in the toilet.” She held up her hands. “Don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” Asami watched her assistant disappear into the house and sighed to herself. Well, that wasn’t so hard...

***

Asami paused in the doorway to admire the framed picture hanging over her bed. All day, she had wondered about the email she’d sent out. Had the artist received it? Had she read it? Had she written back? The questions kept coming back as she’d read, as she’d stared out at the ocean, as she’d spoken on the phone. So many times she’d stopped herself from running up to her room to check if there was a response. She’d held back simply out of stubbornness, out of the conviction that the inbox would be empty; out of fear that she would be disappointed if it were.

She crossed the room, tossing the faxed copy of the screenplay on her bed as she passed. She planned on reading it before going to sleep. But, first, she had some lingering questions to put to rest.

The computer hummed to life and Asami waited patiently for it to boot up. She leaned back on the chair, her mind elsewhere. She thought of her earlier admission to Opal, and wondered what repercussions it would have on their working relationship. She had made the right decision, she knew, in telling her assistant, but who would be next, she wondered. How many people would she tell before it became public knowledge?

She knew that it was likely that the whole world would eventually find out, but for now, she welcomed the opportunity to hide behind the safety of others’ misperception; to let the media run amuck with rumors and assumptions. She could live with lies about lies. It was the mockery of truth that she knew would hurt. It was the lies laced in truth that she didn’t know if she could handle.

Her desktop image stared patiently at her, and she leaned forward to move the mouse around. With only minimal hesitation, she opened the email account she’d created for the sole purpose of communicating with a complete stranger. Even now, a week later, she felt uncomfortable. Why should she write to an artist in New York whom she’d never seen nor met? What about the artwork on her wall made her want to dig deeper, to go so far as to care?

The browser loaded the page, and it took Asami a second longer than necessary to notice the “1” next to “new mail”. She wrote back, Asami thought in surprise, wasting no time in opening the message.

When she finished reading, she sat still, wondering whether or not to write back. It would be rude not to, she decided.

_ Dear Korra, _

_ The artwork I bought from you was a charcoal sketch you titled “Shadow”. I guess you could say it was love at first sight. I love the way that the figure stands outside the circle of people, while its shadow stands within it. I’m not sure what you meant by it, since, like I said before, I’m hardly an art connoisseur, but I couldn’t help feel like I could relate to that image. To that feeling of being watched but not actually seen. _

_ I hope I haven’t offended you if your intention with the piece was to illustrate something entirely different: childbirth, for instance. I’d feel really dumb if that were the case. I just found it so amazing to be touched by something someone I don’t even know created. I’m afraid that to this day, I’m mostly only ever touched by films. _

_ Anyway, I wanted you to know, just in case you ever wondered if what you were doing was worth it, that to me, a stranger in the West Coast, it certainly is. _

_ All the best,  _

_ Sami _

_ PS: If you ever write again, feel free to call me Sami. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of the original plot of this story, Asami is gay and was never with Mako.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

It was raining the day Korra decided to visit her sister, and she almost opted to put it off for another day. She’d stood at the entrance to her apartment building, holding an umbrella over her head, watching the potholes on the road fill with soiled water. She’d considered turning back around, changing into her pajamas and spending the day making sure that the windows in her bedroom didn’t leak. Then she remembered Tara’s face the day she’d stormed out of their parents’ apartment, and she knew she couldn’t wait another day to talk to her. Already she had waited too long.

During the trip to Queens, she’d sketched the sleeping homeless man stretched out across the seats in front of her. On her way off the train, she tucked a pack of crackers under his arm, feeling sad that she didn’t have anything more to give him.

The wind picked up during her walk to Tara’s apartment building, making her umbrella obsolete. Trying to distract herself from the rain, she tried to think of what to say to Tara once she got to where she was going. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say beyond, “I’m sorry.” The possibility that she might not even be home didn’t enter her mind until she was a block away.

She could have called, Korra knew. She could have called and done all of this over the phone.

She could have saved herself the trip to Queens, saved herself the awkwardness of facing her sister almost two weeks after her announcement, but she owed her more than a phone conversation. She owed Tara, at the very least, a hug.

A woman and three of her children were exiting the building as Korra approached, and one of the kids was nice enough to hold the door open so Korra could sneak in. She thanked the boy with a smile, and voiced her appreciation to the mother, who seemed more irritated than pleased by her son’s gallantry. Korra blamed it on the weather.

The umbrella left a trail of raindrops on the floor as she walked inside. It formed a puddle by her feet as she stood in front of Tara’s apartment, staring nervously at the crooked black numbers on the white-painted door. She could hear music coming from the other side.

After a moment, Korra knocked.

The music grew louder as the door opened, and Korra stared stupidly at the dark brown eyes looking back at her. “Yes?” said a girl that Korra didn’t recognize.

“Hi, I’m sorry, I’m looking for Tara.” she said, wondering if she’d somehow gotten the wrong door, or if Tara had moved without telling anyone. 

“And you are...?”

“Korra,” she said. “I’m—“

“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, her eyes widening and her demeanor changing to one of pleasant surprise. “You’re Korra? The Korra?” She let the door swing open and she looked Korra up and down. “You’re even hotter than your pictures.” She smiled and stretched out her hand. “I’m Megan.”

Korra was certain she was missing something, but she shook her hand anyway.

“I know you have no idea who I am,” she said. “But I know all about you. Come in, come in.” She stepped aside. “Tara’s not here right now, but you’re welcome to wait for her. You’re soaked. Do you want a towel or anything?” She disappeared into a room, and the music stopped abruptly.

“Ah, no, thanks. I’m okay,” Korra said when Megan emerged.

“Some coffee? Tea?” Megan moved toward the kitchen, which was immediately to the left of the entrance. She cleared a stool by the counter, and motioned for Korra to take a seat. “She’s going to be so happy to see you. She’s been all mopey ever since she came out to your folks, and I’ve been telling her, ‘Honey, you have to give them time. They’ll come around,’ and here you are, proving me right.” She arched a brow, looking confused. “Did you say coffee?”

“Um, sure,” Korra said. She left the umbrella and her messenger bag on the floor by the door, and stepped into the kitchen to sit down.

“So you’re probably wondering, ‘Who is this girl moving around my sister’s apartment like she owns the place’, right?” She didn’t wait for her to answer before continuing. “I, my dear Korra, am your sister's dirty little secret. Or as she likes to call me in public forums, ‘her roommate.’”

Korra blinked in surprise. “So you’re her... her...”

“Yes, I am hers.” Megan grinned. “And I’m so glad to finally meet you. She talks about you all the time.”

Korra instantly felt sad. Why hadn’t Tara told her the truth sooner? Why hadn’t she ever introduced her to Megan before? What else about her life didn’t she know? “I’m glad to meet you, too,” she said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I seem so shocked by all of this, it’s just that Tara never—“

“I know,” Megan said, and placed a cup of coffee in front of Korra. “She’s amazingly good at hiding. Do you want milk? Sugar?”

“I like it black, actually. Thanks.” Korra stared down at the mug, not really looking at it. When she glanced up, she smiled. “So, how long have you and Tara been together?”

“A little over two years.”

“Two years?” Korra asked in surprise. Why hadn’t Tara told her? She could understand why she would hide it from her mom and dad, but Korra?

Megan smiled sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better, she did want to tell you a long time ago. She was just a big chicken.”

Korra merely nodded and sipped at her coffee. She glanced up when she heard the front door click open.

A second later Tara was standing in the doorway, holding a dripping umbrella, and staring in surprise at Korra. “Korra,” she said, closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” She smiled tentatively, and put down the cup. “Thought I’d drop by and apologize for being a horrible sister.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘horrible.’” Tara smiled and stepped forward to give Korra a hug. “I’m really happy to see you,” she whispered in her ear, then pulled away. “How are you?”

“Actually, I came to ask you the same question,” Korra said and stared up into brown eyes. “I’m sorry for not coming by sooner. It wasn’t that—

“I know, Korra,” Tara interrupted. “I should have told you sooner. It’s just that I was—“

“A big chicken,” Korra supplied.

Tara glanced at Megan and then back at Korra. “I see you two have been talking.”

“Girl talk, you know,” Megan said and winked at Korra. “Do you want any coffee, babe, I made a fresh pot?”

Tara stiffened and glanced at Korra, who only smiled at the exchange between them. “No thanks,” she said after a second.

“Tara, relax,” Korra said, laughing at her sister’s nervousness. “If you’re worried about making me uncomfortable, don’t. I live in the Village and go to art school. I know more gay girls than straight ones.”

“Are they cute?” Megan asked.

Tara smacked her on the arm. “Hey!”

“I was just asking!” Megan rubbed her arm. “Meanie.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never seen me as a gay girl before,” Tara said. “I’m still your sister.”

“And you always will be.” Korra smiled. “No matter what. Besides, I like Megan much better than that guy you were dating a few years ago. What was his name? Kyle?”

“Kyle?” Megan smiled. “You dated a Kyle?’”

“Not exactly,” Tara said.

“She kept bringing him to family dinners,” Korra said.

Tara scratched the back of her head. “Ah, yeah.”

“You dated a gay guy?” Megan laughed. “You never told me that.” Megan's eyes widened. “Wait, Kyle? The Kyle we know? The one who was here the other day asking us for eggs?”

Tara coughed.

Korra arched an eyebrow. “Okay, this is getting a little too Queer As Folk for me now.”

“So, how’s Mako?” Tara asked, glaring at her girlfriend. “How’d he take the happy news?”

“Uh.” Korra bit her bottom lip. “I haven’t actually told him yet. We haven’t really talked much the past couple of weeks.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“I’m not sure it’s been paradise for a while,” Korra admitted. “Things have been a little strained. Kuvira thinks I should just break up with him.”

“What’s stopping you?” It was Megan who asked.

Korra glanced at her and shrugged. “Not sure. I guess I’m just used to being with him.”

“Dump him,” Megan said. “Dump him quickly. Unless the sex is really good.” She looked at her expectantly.

Korra glanced uncomfortably at Tara. “Uh...”

“Please don’t answer that,” Tara pleaded. She glared at Megan before turning back to Korra. “And don’t listen to anyone else. You should do what you feel is right, when you feel it’s right.”

“Yeah,” Korra said. The problem was, she was too scared to do what felt right. Guess being chicken runs in the family.

*** 

Korra stared at the flickering channels on the television screen. The flashes of images and half-spoken words were lulling her to sleep.

“There’s nothing on,” Kuvira murmured, her thumb pressing down on the channel button with barely a pause between presses. “Maybe we should invest in Direct TV. If I get another job, I’m sure we can afford it.”

Korra forced her eyes to open and she mumbled something that was supposed to be, ‘Over my dead body,’ but sounded more like, ‘Sure, whatever.’ She stared at the television for several more seconds until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She grabbed the remote and tossed it over her shoulder.

Kuvira jumped up to glance over the back of the couch and then stared incomprehensibly at Korra. “What... you just... what the...”

Korra breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. “You were driving me insane.”

“Okay, normal people would say, ‘Hey, you’re driving me insane, could you please stop that?’” Kuvira said. “Normal people don’t just grab a person’s lifeline out of her hands and toss it into thin air, okay?” She stood up and retrieved the remote control from wherever it had landed. A moment later, she sat back down beside Korra.

“Hey, didn’t you say it was a guy who bought Shadow?”

Kuvira shut off the television and turned to face Korra. “I have only one word for you, Korra: context. What in the name of the holy lordy Lord are you talking about?”

“That sketch you sold of mine, the one you called my ‘baby’ and ‘the love of my life.’ Didn’t you say it was a guy who bought it?”

“A cute guy, yeah. Well, he was wearing big shades, so I didn’t get a very good look at his face, but going by his body alone, mmm. You know, he never called. What an asshole.”

“Hmm,” Korra said thoughtfully. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s because you’re not out there enough,” Kuvira said, patting Korra’s shoulder sympathetically. “Believe me, after a while you get used to the jerks who take your number and never call it. It’s just one of the many things about being single in New York City that you’re missing out on.”

“Huh? No, that’s not what I meant. Sami said she bought Shadow, but unless she looks like a guy...”

Kuvira held up her hand. “Who the hell is Sami?”

“The woman who wrote me about my art.”

“Ah, right. She said she’s the one who bought the sketch?” Kuvira shook her head. “That was definitely not a woman. Unless her name is pronounced like “Sammy,” and like short for Samuel. Then it might be a guy. Who names a boy Sami though? Maybe she pronounces it like “saw me?” I was looking in all the right places, and unless she was packing something—

“I beg you to stop,” Korra interrupted.

“Maybe it was like a really, really butch woman,” Kuvira contemplated seriously. “It would explain the big shades.” She started to nod, and then stopped, looking horrified. “Oh, God, does that make me gay?”

“She did say she related to the image because she often felt like people were looking at her, but not really seeing her.”

“Oh, my God, I am gay.”

“You’re not gay. You thought it was a guy, and maybe it is a guy. Maybe Sami is really Samuel.”

“That’s it!” Kuvira snapped her fingers, nodding. “Maybe he, well, she, hasn’t gone through the whole, you know, change yet.”

Korra shrugged. “I suppose it could be possible, and that’s why he, uh, she never called you because she didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Wow,” Kuvira said. “I feel so bad for calling her an asshole now.” 

***

Hours later, after a shower and a short, but exhausting phone conversation with Mako about the possibility of his spending the night, Korra sat in bed, alone, with her laptop. Her conversation with Kuvira regarding Sami’s gender had sparked Korra’s curiosity. She wanted to ask, but she worried that she might inadvertently offend the stranger. And in the end, did it really matter?

She had spent part of the day toying with the possibility of not writing back. What more was there to say? Still, it was rude not to reply. Korra only worried that in writing back she might come across as pretentious or self-important. She wasn’t used to talking about her art with anyone that wasn’t Kuvira, and with Kuvira, she didn’t care how she came across.

The fishbowl screensaver overtook the monitor while Korra decided what to write. She watched the digital fish swim from side to side for several minutes, until finally, she clicked a button.

The compose email screen waited patiently, the cursor ticking away the passing seconds.

Biting her lip, Korra began to type.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ “Shadow” has always been one of my favorite pieces. I hope it doesn’t sound pretentious to say that. It’s just that some of the things I draw or paint turn out to mean more to me than others. _

_ To be honest, I’m not even sure I ever meant to sell it. It must have gotten mixed up with everything else. I guess it might sound weird to say this, but I’m glad that it was sold after all. You’re the first person who’s ever written to me about my work, and it’s really meant a lot to me to hear such positive things from a perfect stranger. _

_ Since I’m being so honest, I guess I can admit that lately I’ve been filled with a lot of insecurities. I’ve always been able to turn to my art as a way to express my deepest fears or my private feelings, but lately I’ve felt stuck. It’s hard, I suppose, to convey a clear message when what you’re feeling is so scattered. _

_ Thank you for saying that my art has been ‘worth it’ to you; I’m glad. I’m not sure that I’m very good at replying to this kind of email, since I have no practice with it. I hope that I’m not coming across as entirely full of myself. I’ve never been very good at taking compliments. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Korra _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m feeling nice, so I’ll post chapter 10 later today :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

For most of her life, Asami had wondered about her mother. What would she have been like, had she lived? What would Asami, herself, be like? Would she be different? Happier?

Had her mother lived, would they have been a picture-perfect family? Or would her parents have grown tired of each other, argued, eventually divorced?

Asami had spent many hours of her life envisioning a different past. She couldn’t help but think that she’d be a better person, had she known her mother; the one that died when Asami was six, who lived on in Asami’s mind only through the stories her grandmother would tell her, through captured moments in time.

“She really loved photography,” her grandmother once said, when Asami was ten, and not at all sure where the subject had come from. They were sitting in the living room of her grandmother’s house, drinking hot chocolate, building a jigsaw puzzle. She remembered the way her grandmother leaned back in her chair, a wistful smile on her face. “Your mother, she loved taking pictures. She would take pictures of everything: animals, children, a ball of dust on the floor...”

Asami remembered trying to imagine her mother pointing a camera at something, hitting the button, waiting for the flash. She tried to conjure up a clear picture of her mother’s face, using the photographs she’d seen as guidance, but failed.

She didn’t remember much, had no conception at the time of life and death, of the idea of Heaven; no understanding that her mother was gone. She remembered, or thought she remembered, holding her father’s hand at the cemetery, watching him cry. She remembered him picking her up, holding her tight. She held that memory as the defining moment before her life began to change, as the moment when her life chose its path.

Backtracking through time became a hobby of Asami’s. She liked to revisit the history of her life, step backwards in the footsteps of past decisions. She didn’t remember everything, didn’t know if some of what she did remember actually happened or if her frequent thoughts had disrupted the frail boundaries of past reality.

She did remember telling her grandmother that she wished to be an actress. To Asami, it seemed the perfect way to be everything at once. Now, looking back, she recognized that it was also the perfect way to be nothing. But her grandmother had smiled, peered down at Asami and said, “You can be anything you want, Sami. Anything at all.”

It was mostly luck, Asami conceded, which landed her in commercials. But it was her grandmother’s support, her father’s absence, his new marriage that pushed Asami forward. Forward and into the spotlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one is so short. I’ll post Chapter 11 later tonight or tomorrow morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“You know,” Misaki Sato began, her voice breaking through the sounds of silverware on plates and muffled conversation, “I’m beginning to think this was a horrible choice for a restaurant.” Her gray-brown eyes regarded the menu with thinly veiled disgust. “There’s simply nothing to eat.”

Asami stifled a yawn from behind her own menu and stole a glance at her watch. She had been at the Guardian set for most of the day and had wanted nothing more than a long, hot bath after work. What she got instead was a reminder from Opal not to miss her scheduled family time.

“It’s a shame,” Misaki continued, “that you had to miss Mizu’s play. He made a fabulous Romeo.”

“The director said I was the best she’d ever seen,” Mizu added without an ounce of modesty, smiling at Asami.

“Wow,” Asami said, peering up over the menu to glance at her half-brother. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Perhaps you could see about getting Mizu set up with that agent of yours,” Misaki said. “I hear she’s very good.”

“She is.” Asami returned her attention to the menu, hoping the subject would drop on its own. She had seen Mizu’s acting, and it was certainly not something she planned to endorse.

“I don’t want Asami’s agent,” Mizu said. “I’d rather get my own.”

“Well, maybe Asami’s can suggest some people.”

“I’ll check with her,” Asami said, closing the menu. “So, where did Dad have to run to this time?”

“Paris,” Mizu said with a sigh. “He was supposed to take me with him, but he got called out on some big 'emergency' during the play.”

“He’ll take you next time, honey. And you know you have school. Maybe for Christmas we can all go.” Misaki looked at Asami. “You are, of course, invited.”

“Ah, well, I guess we’ll see.” Asami would have rather walked barefoot through a sea of lava. “I’m not sure what my schedule will be.”

Mizu rolled his eyes. Then he smiled. “So, what’s the story with you and Bolin? I heard he dumped you for your assistant.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“It’s all over the Internet,” Mizu said, as if it were common knowledge. “Someone at school said she read that you were heartbroken.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to get up in the mornings, but I manage.”

“He left you for your assistant?” Misaki asked. “I had no idea. That doesn’t say a lot about your ability to keep men, Asami.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Mizu’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

“Ah, no. We were long over before anything happened with Opal.”

“That's not what I read. Do you mind if I tell people you're really upset about it? It'll give me something to discuss in homeroom tomorrow.”

“Your support is invaluable to me, Mizu.” Asami glanced at her watch again. Had it only been half an hour since she’d arrived?

“Do you have your eyes on someone else?” It was Misaki who asked. “Because if you don’t, Yuki Nakamura’s son is finally single.”

“Finally? Was someone counting the days?”

“Oh, he was dating the most dreadful woman,” Misaki said. “You should have heard the stories Mary Jo told me. The girl was one of those,” and here she lowered her voice, “Hispanics. Not only that, but she was their maid’s daughter! God, can you imagine?” Misaki shook her head. “Anyway, her son’s name is Nobu. I’ll have him give you a call.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not really... emotionally ready to jump into another relationship.”

Mizu snorted. "I knew you were heartbroken."

“Really, Asami, don’t be so dramatic. So, Bolin dumped you. Time to move on. I’ll have Nobu call you. Maybe you can take him to one of those celebrity parties you’re always attending. You’re going to need a date after all.”

Asami didn’t know what else to say to deter her stepmother. She knew once Misaki made up her mind about something there was no going back. "Fine, but please don't give him my cell phone number. Have him call Opal's."

"Aren't you afraid she's gonna steal him too?" Mizu asked with a laugh.

"Speak of the devil," Asami said, as the individualized ringtone she'd designated for Opal's calls filled the air. She reached for the device as quickly as possible and answered with a cheerful, "Hello?"

"Sorry to bother you while you're having the time of your life with your family, but I just wanted to ask if it was okay if I brought a friend to dinner on Friday?"

Instead of replying, Asami said, "Wow, they need to reshoot that now? Right now? But I'm having dinner with my family..."

"Very smooth, Asami. No, but seriously, is it okay?"

"Well, I guess it’s fine. Tell them I’m on my way."

Opal laughed. "Good luck with your escape."

"Thanks, Opal. Talk to you later." Asami snapped the phone shut and regarded the two people at the table with what she hoped was a regretful expression. "Sorry, emergency at the set. I have to run."

"What, do they need you to perform open heart surgery or something?" Mizu asked.

"You're funny tonight," Asami said, rising from the table.

"Don't forget about Nobu," Misaki said, as Asami leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"I won't think of anything else." Asami waved to her stepbrother and headed straight for the exit, breathing a sigh of relief the second she stepped outside.

***

Some time later, Asami lay in bed, feet on pillows, staring up at the picture an artist thousands of miles away had drawn. She’d been staring at it for what felt like hours, tracing each line, each curve with her mind’s eye, wondering what it was about those black lines on that white canvas paper that made her feel at peace.

The glow from the open laptop caught Asami’s attention and she turned to look at the email on the screen. She’d rewritten her reply to the artist’s email dozens of times throughout the course of her day. During filming, during breaks, during moments of silence her thoughts had invariably returned to the email she’d yet to write. Dear Korra, she would write across the pages of her mind, and then she’d pause to contemplate the million things she could say after that.

If she were honest with herself, which she seldom was, she’d admit that what she really wanted to write was a question: Why do you feel stuck? For reasons she couldn’t explain, Asami wanted to know. In truth, she wanted to know a lot more than just that.

She sighed, looking back up at the picture. If she was smart, she’d let it go. She’d forget about the email, she’d forget about the artist. She’d already said what she’d meant to say.

She’d only meant to express her appreciation over the art piece. Anything further was crossing the line. She didn’t want to lie, but she couldn’t tell the truth. The best thing to do was to stop, not reply, move on.

And yet, she wanted to know. Why do you feel stuck? Asami wondered. Sometimes I feel stuck, she wanted to write, often, I feel scattered.

She let the sound of crashing waves fill the room as she stared at nothing in particular. After a moment, she pulled the laptop closer and clicked “reply.”

_ Dear Korra, _

_ Let me first assure you that your email didn’t come across as pretentious at all. I know quite a lot of pretentious people, so you can trust me to know the difference. :) _

_ If my email made you feel at all better, then I’m very glad that I wrote it. Especially if it made you feel better about selling something you didn’t mean to sell. Though, if you want me to send it back to you, I will. I’d hate to keep it if you miss it or if it’s something you were saving or anything like that. _

_ Ever since I read your email there’s been something I’ve wanted to say, but have worried about crossing the line with you. I know that we don’t know each other at all, but I thought that maybe that very fact might actually make it easier. Anyway, you mentioned feeling scattered and stuck, and I just wanted to say that if you ever wanted to talk about it... well, my inbox is always open. Otherwise, you’re welcome to tell me to mind my own business. :) _

_ Take care, _

_ Sami _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I mentioned awhile ago, this story’s plot doesn’t perfectly align with the LoK plot, so bear with me. All that matters is that Korra and Asami end up together, right? I’m almost done converting this story, and man I love it so much. Get ready. Y’all are in for a fun ride!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Mako said, lowering the volume of the music in the car.

Korra turned from the window to look at her boyfriend. “Doing what?”

“This. Going to your parents’ for dinner,” he said. He glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. “I’ve missed us lately. I know I’ve been busy with some of those projects, but next semester should be smooth sailing until graduation.”

“Yeah,” Korra said, turning back to the window. Her mood had been sour all afternoon. It started with a last minute invitation to dinner that she’d wanted to get out of, but had been talked into, first by her mother, and then by Mako. After finally agreeing, a fight erupted over whether or not to take Mako’s car. Korra thought it was ridiculous to drive when her family lived near the subway stop, but Mako wanted to show off his brand new stereo system and a few other “goodies” she didn’t quite understand. So, she’d given in to that, too.

Now, naturally, they were stuck in traffic, and Korra was too busy weighing the pros and cons of jumping out of the car and meeting him at her family’s to care whether or not he was glad they were doing this.

“Do you think the car will be okay on your parents’ street?”

Korra turned her head slowly in his direction. “What?”

“Well,” Mako shifted in his seat, “it just occurred to me that your family doesn’t live in the nicest of areas. “ He shrugged. “But hey, that’s why I invested in that great security system, right? I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Korra rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Korra, are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Are you still upset about me taking the car? C’mon, don’t be like that. You know how I hate taking the subway. Isn’t this nicer?”

“You call sitting in traffic nice?”

“It’ll clear up soon. Besides, this gives us a chance to talk. I’ve been thinking, you know, about what will happen after I graduate. I was wondering what you thought about it?”

“About what?”

“Us. I’ll be at Harvard. You’ll be here ...”

“Yeah...?”

“Well, I thought maybe— Hold on.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his ringing cell phone. “Hey, man, what’s up?... Nah, I’m just out with my girl. What’s going on?... Tonight? Yeah, I guess... sure, sure... after dinner, okay?... Okay, catch you later.”

Korra waited expectantly for an explanation after Mako clicked off the phone. Though the one-sided conversation didn’t paint a full picture, past experience did.

“That was Wu. He invited us over to the pub tonight.”

“And?”

“I told him we’d stop by after dinner. That cool?”

“No, it’s not ‘cool’. Why do you always do that? Is it so difficult to ask me first if I even want to go anywhere else tonight?”

“Do you?”

“No!”

Mako frowned. “Why not? I thought you had nothing to do tonight?”

“That’s not the point. I just don’t want to go.”

“Yeah, but why? I thought you liked the guys. It’ll be a few quick drinks and then we’ll be off, I promise. I thought I’d stay over your place tonight, anyway.”

Korra breathed deeply and counted to ten. Two seconds later, they were moving again, and Korra lost her steam. Later, she promised herself. We’ll talk about this later.

***

Dinner began pleasantly enough. Korra’s mood improved considerably upon arriving at her family’s apartment, and she started to believe that perhaps she’d overreacted about not wanting to go. After all, they were her family. Why wouldn’t she want to see them?

Senna turned to Mako and smiled, lifting the plate of chicken. “Mako, do you want some chicken?”

“Oh, I’d love some, thank you.” Mako lifted his plate and accepted the food with his usual charming smile. “I always miss your food, Senna.”

“Doesn’t Korra cook for you?” Senna regarded Korra with a look of disappointment.

“Ah, sure she does,” Mako said, winking at Korra. “A few weeks ago she made me... ah, what was that you made me?”

“Seaweed noodles,” Korra said, not looking up.

Senna laughed. “I bet anything cooked by Korra tastes like a science experiment.”

“It was actually pretty good,” Mako said, surprising Korra. She’d been certain he’d hated it.

“What's that? Korra, why don’t you make him something I’ve taught you to make?” Senna said, frowning deeply.

Korra gritted her teeth.

“So,” Tonraq said, turning to Mako, “congratulations on getting into Harvard.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your parents must be so proud,” Senna said, smiling.

Mako grinned. “Yeah, they are.”

“I guess you’ll be taking a lot of trips over there,” Senna said to Korra. “It will be tough being apart after all of these years together.”

Mako was nodding, moving food around with his fork. “Yeah, actually, I was thinking maybe, if Korra keeps up her grades, she might be able to transfer next year.”

Korra looked at Mako sharply. “What?”

“Well, I just hope you can convince her to study something more practical,” Tonraq said. “All this art business is fine for a hobby, but spending money for an education on it...” He shook his head.

“With all due respect, Sir, I support Korra’s decision to study art. I mean, if that’s what she wants.” He smiled taking Korra’s hand in his. She was too stunned to comment. “If all goes well, we’ll be married by the time I graduate Law School, anyway. I’d love to start a family.”

“Just as long as she finishes school first,” Senna said.

“Absolutely,” Mako agreed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Korra opened her mouth to speak but sound wouldn’t come out. Transfer? Marriage? A family?

Her life was flashing before her eyes and she hadn’t even finished dinner yet.

“So, I guess Tara won’t be stopping by? I wanted to show her the new goodies on the car.”

Silence fell like a blanket across the table.

Tonraq cleared his throat. “We’re not speaking about her today.”

“Turns out the Almighty Tara is a big lesbian,” Tonraq said with a snort.

“Tonraq!” Senna cried.

“What? It’s true,” Tonraq said. 

“Enough!” Senna slammed her hand on the table so loud that the silverware rattled. “This is not a subject to be discussed at the dinner table.”

Korra bit her lip and slipped her hand out from beneath Mako’s. How could they be so cruel as to dismiss Tara like that? And how could they sit there and discuss her future as if she weren’t there? But most importantly, why did she let them?

Suddenly, and quite clearly, she remembered why she hadn’t wanted to come tonight.

***

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Mako yelled, his fists hitting the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t have brought up the subject if I’d known!”

“It was none of your business!”

“None of my business? You made me look like a jerk back there, Korra. Tonraq was all pissed off...”

“This may come as a shock to you, Mako, but the whole world does not revolve around you, okay? And my family’s personal issues are not your concern.”

“Not my concern? Not my concern, Korra? We’re practically engaged!”

“No, we’re not! And that’s another thing! Where do you get off telling my family that I might transfer to Harvard? I’m not transferring to Harvard.”

Mako shrugged, glancing at the rearview mirror before cutting someone off. “You might get in. I mean, I know it’s a bit of a long shot, but...”

“Okay. Stop the car, Mako.”

“What?”

“Stop the fucking car, or I swear I’m going to jump out of it and into oncoming traffic.”

Mako obliged, pulling over into the nearest available spot. “Let’s talk about this.”

Korra was halfway out the door. “There’s nothing to talk about. As far as I’m concerned, you and I are over.” She let the sound of the door slamming closed punctuate her sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe. Bye Mako :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra knew it wasn’t over; a two and a half year relationship didn’t end with a five word proclamation and a hasty exit. She knew he would call, and if he didn’t call, then she would call. It wasn’t over, but it was close. It was almost over, which, in some way, was good enough. It was enough to feel relieved that she’d had the guts to stand up for herself that half a second before she’d fled.

She wished she weren’t such a coward. For all of Tara’s hiding, at least she’d been brave enough, eventually, to come clean, to be honest, to face her fears. She wished she saw herself being that brave someday. Perhaps, tonight, had been a step in that direction.

The apartment was dark, empty, when Korra stepped inside. She was relieved not to have to face her roommate and the bombardment of questions that would surely follow. Yet the stillness unsettled her; she didn’t want to be alone.

From the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of grape juice and took it with her to her room. She dropped her messenger bag – the closest thing to a purse she carried – by the door. Outside, a car passed by, horns blaring, kids yelling. She sat at the edge of the bed and uncapped her drink.

Mozart’s “The Turkish March” began to play from somewhere in her bag, and Korra stared, but made no move to answer the cell phone. It was Mako, and it was too soon. She needed more time to prepare her closing argument, to build a better defense against his case.

She sighed against the silence, held her breath against the chance that it might ring again.

When it didn’t, she relaxed, looking around the room, sipping her juice. She needed new posters, she decided after a moment of reflection, or maybe just more of them. The ones she had were starting to wear at the edges, and they did little to cover the ugly walls behind.

Her laptop, which she’d forgotten to turn off before she’d left, whirred softly behind her, and she turned to look at it. Had her email been answered? she wondered, having forgotten all about it until that moment.

Polar Bears and Penguins stared back at her from her desktop wallpaper and she clicked into her email client.

While her email loaded, the cell phone began to chime again. Korra rolled off the bed and picked up the bag. She dug her cell phone from its depths and glanced at the screen for a moment before shutting it off.

Back on the bed, she looked at the monitor. The name ‘Sami Taso’ stared back at her from the inbox. She smiled as she clicked on the email.

When she was done reading, she clicked ‘reply’ and bit her lip thoughtfully as she began to type.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ I’m glad to know that I pass the non-pretentious test. Since you’re such an expert and all, I guess I’ll have to trust your judgment. :) _

_ Please don’t ever think that I regret you buying my artwork or that I want it back. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have it, honestly. It’s just a strange thing, I think, selling art. _

_ There’s really just the one, you know? And when it’s gone, you have no idea where it is, or who has it, or if they even appreciate having it. Perhaps, they just gave it to someone as a gift (a just-got-back-from-NY memento) and that person hated it and threw it away. _

_ Sometimes I worry that’s what happens. And so, when it comes to a piece that really matters to me – like ‘Shadow’ – I can’t bear the thought of someone, somewhere, tossing it in the trash. _

_ It means a lot to know you like it. Not because it’s flattering to my ego (though it is) and not because it gives me some self-confidence (though it does), but because I know it’s safe and appreciated, and not sitting in a landfill somewhere. _

_ About the scattered/stuck question, I don’t know how to answer it. I’m really bad at self-analysis. The past few months I’ve mainly just felt like everything I create is entirely lackluster. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything I really cared about. _

_ The truth is, I’ve been feeling really numb. Not just in my artwork, but in general. My relationship is in a nearly-over status (as of like, two hours ago), and my family drives me insane. _

_ But I really don’t want to bore you with the details. It’s sweet of you to ask, but I imagine you have better things to do than read about my problems. _

_ There is, however, a question I have for you, that I’ve held back on for fear of crossing that line you mentioned. I really hope I don’t offend you in any way. It’s just that, well, you said you bought ‘Shadow’ and the day you bought it, it was my best friend at the table selling it. _

_ She said, though, that the person who bought it was a guy, whom she gave her number to. It sparked her, to tell me, to ask you how you pronounce your name? Is it like “Sammy” or “saw me?” And... well... I hope the nature of my confusion is clear enough. _

_ I probably sound like a jerk saying anything. But, since you were brave enough to ask me a somewhat personal question, I figured I’d take that chance too. _

_ It’s now your turn to tell me to mind my own business. :) _

_ Until later, _

_ Korra _

“She’s going to think I’m such an ass,” Korra muttered, reading over her email.

Regardless, she hit send.

Absently, she spent the next half an hour surfing the Internet, visiting her usual websites, though little held her attention. The Internet, she found, was only interesting when she was procrastinating on something. Otherwise, it was an endless source of pointlessness.

A ‘new message received’ flag popped up on her task bar, and Korra clicked back over to her email client. She was surprised to find that Sami had written back.

_ Dear Korra, _

_ You know, it never occurred to me that it might be hard for an artist to part with their work. _

_ I mean a musician can listen to their own music whenever he or she wants and still share it with the world. A writer can always make copies. But an artist creates one beautiful thing at a time and then parts with it. It’s sad to think about. I’m not sure I could do it (assuming I had any artistic talent whatsoever – which I assure you I don’t). I think I’d end up hoarding all my own work. How’s that for mature? _

_ I’m glad, though, that you feel your work is safe with me. Would you like me to take a picture of it so you can rest easy at night knowing that it’s in a nice home, with a nice person that promises to clothe it, and feed it daily? ;) _

_ Seriously, though, I do love it. I spent most of last night staring at it. Is that weird? _

_ Before I go on, let me answer that question of yours since I’m a little worried about what you’ve come up with to justify my seeming dual-gendered existence. As far as my name goes, it’s pronounced like “saw me.” I actually didn’t buy the picture myself. I was with my friend and he’s the one who did the actual purchasing. _

_ Now you’re probably wondering why my friend didn’t call your friend after getting her number, and all I can say to that is that he’s an awkward idiot. I apologize on his behalf. I told him to call, but we were leaving New York the following morning and he thought it was pointless. _

_ Male logic.  _

_ Hopefully that clears up any confusion you may have had on the matter. I’m sorry for confusing you in the first place. :) _

_ Regarding my ‘having better things to do than read about your problems’ comment, the truth is, I don’t. Not really. I mean, there was a very good book I was in the middle of reading when your email popped up on my screen, but I think it will keep. The truth is, if you want to tell me more about your ‘nearly-over’ relationship or your insanity-inducing family, I’d be happy to listen (read?) _

_ On the other hand, I don’t want to pry, and if you were simply trying to be polite because you really didn’t want to get into your personal life with me, I completely understand. I just didn’t want it to be because you thought I didn’t really mean what I said about wanting to know. _

_ I’m not in any kind of relationship, so I can’t relate to your situation, but if it makes you feel any better, my family drives me insane, too. :) _

_ Until next time, _

_ Sami _

Korra found herself smiling, and hit ‘reply’ again, wondering if it would seem strange to reply so quickly. She decided against caring. If Sami didn’t feel weird about it, why should she?

***

Asami knew that refreshing her inbox every few minutes bordered on pathetic. She’d felt self-conscious for replying immediately after reading Korra’s email, not wishing to give off the impression that she had nothing else to do; but the thought that the artist might reply just as quickly encouraged her. As time passed, however, Asami began to feel uncomfortable with her own impatience.

She pushed the laptop away and tried to concentrate on the book she was reading, but after a while the words swam together and her thoughts wandered back to the matter at hand.

She’d promised herself that she would stop replying, and yet she found she couldn’t. With every email sent and every email received, the opportunity for a casual disappearance grew dimmer. Where before it might have seemed natural not to reply, now it seemed impossible.

Maybe she’ll stop writing to me, Asami considered, though the thought bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Anonymity was a luxury she had given up on long ago, but now that she was experiencing a small taste of it – however wrong it felt – she couldn’t let go. It was the reason why, against all common sense, she couldn’t help but email the artist. She was curious about Korra. A part of her, however small and seemingly illogical, wanted to be her friend.

Asami sighed and put the book on her nightstand. After a few minutes of staring at the wall, trying to think about anything but her email, she finally gave up and grabbed the laptop. The inbox took a several seconds to reload, but when it did, Asami was surprised to find an email waiting for her.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ Allow me to admit that I’m rather relieved by your ‘dual-gendered existence’ explanation, as my friend and I had come up with quite the creative take on the subject. I don’t think you want to know. _

_ Anyway, whether staring at my art piece for a long time is weird or not I can’t say. I’ve been known to stare at art for long periods of time (though not usually my own, unless I’m in the process of creating it). Weird or not, it’s nice to know. You do amazing things to my self-confidence, just so you know. _

_ I never really thought of parting with my art work as a sad thing, really. Usually I’m so pleased when someone likes it enough to buy it that I don’t care that I won’t have it any longer. It’s when I start to think about what they may be doing with it that I worry a bit. _

_ Generally, though, I try to think of all my sold art as framed somewhere beautiful. With the proper lighting, of course. It’s all about lighting. _

_ I think I trust you to be taking proper care of my piece without the picture evidence to prove it. You don’t seem like the art abusing type. :) _

_ So, about my life... _

_ My boyfriend and I have been on a bumpy road for a while. I’m not sure if it’s his fault, or mine, or both of ours together. He’s ambitious in a Harvard Law School kind of way, and I’m ambitious in a Dreams Happen kind of way, and I guess we don’t see eye-to-eye on most things. He values ‘the proper career’ and money above all other things, and I’m just not sure I can go along with that forever. _

_ Tonight, we went to dinner at my parents’ and he basically told my family that we were engaged (which we aren’t) and that he didn’t mind me being an artist because we’d be married by the time he finished Law School anyway. My parents were all thrilled with the idea, like we were living in the 1950s or something. _

_ I just sat there in shock. Do you ever find yourself thinking, “What the hell is going on here?” One second I was amazed because he actually said he supported my art studies (something he had never done before!) and the next he was dragging me down the isle while our kids yelled, “Mommy! Mommy!” in the background. I had a moment of sheer terror right there in my parents’ dining room. _

_ On the drive home we had a horrible fight which concluded with me yelling that we were over. I’ve been sitting in my room ignoring all of his phone calls since. _

_ And you know, I just keep thinking, “Where did we go wrong?” We were so good together once. He was so sweet and supportive at the beginning and slowly he transformed into this other person I no longer recognize. Is it me that changed? Did we both change? I don’t know... _

_ I’m not even sure what to say when he calls. Are we really over? Is that what I want? _

_ I know you said you couldn’t relate because you’re not in a relationship, but maybe any of your past experiences can help me out. As an impartial observer, what do you think? My best friend, my usual confidante, is entirely too biased to be of any use to me. She’s been bugging me to break up with him from the start, but the thing is... I loved him once. I keep thinking that that feeling will come back. Love doesn’t just vanish into thin air, does it? _

_ Until soon, _

_ Korra _

Asami stared at the email for a long time. Instead of replying, she shut the computer and rolled out of bed. She crossed her bedroom and stepped out into the balcony. The breeze scattered her hair the second she walked outside and she smiled briefly against the wind. It felt good to be outside, she decided, and leaned against the railing.

Below, her pool glowed turquoise in the increasing darkness. She stared out at the ocean, at the fading colors in the sky. She’d missed most of the sunset, she realized, and felt annoyed with herself for letting the time slip by unnoticed. She never missed a sunset if she could help it.

“Look for me in the clouds at sunset,” her grandmother had said in the moments before she died. “I’ll be waving.”

Asami didn’t like to think of that moment, avoided the memory and the pain of losing her grandmother at all costs, but she did turn to the clouds at sunset, when she could. It made her feel less alone.

Love doesn’t just vanish into thin air... Does it? Asami wondered. She didn’t know. There were few people Asami could claim to love, and she didn’t imagine that it was the same kind of love that Korra felt for her boyfriend. How could she help Korra? She had no past experiences to go on, only fictional ones.

She sighed deeply, the sound carried away by the wind. What was she doing with her life? A twenty-five year old with no past relationships, no true prospects. Was her career really worth it? Was there really that much to lose?

And even if she were open to love, to the idea of a relationship, how would she ever find someone to love? How would she find someone to love her for her?

If love did in fact just vanished into thin air... why bother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be pretty busy tomorrow, but I’ll try and post chapter 14 in the morning or early evening!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Hey,” he said, by way of greeting, and Korra glanced up from her sketch pad to see Mako looking down at her. “I’ve tried calling you.”

Korra looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I know.”

He lit a cigarette and sat down beside her on the bench. For a long time, neither of them said anything. Mako seemed content to watch the other students pass by, and Korra didn’t know what to tell him.

“How was class?” he said finally.

Korra drew in a breath. “Look, Mako, about the other night—“

“I forgive you,” he said.

“Forgive me?” Korra said, stunned. “I’m not apologizing.”

“You totally flew off the handle there, Korra. I think an ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t be out of order.” He flicked his cigarette. “First you embarrass me in front of your family—“

“Wait, wait, how did I embarrass you?”

“You didn’t warn me that the subject of Tara was suddenly taboo. We’re a couple. We’re supposed to tell each other things like, ‘Hey, my sister is a lesbian now. Don’t go bringing her up at dinner.’” He flicked his cigarette again, and Korra watched the ashes fall to the ground.

Korra stared at Mako’s profile, torn between screaming at him and hitting him with her notebook. How was it possible to love and hate someone at the same time? “I meant it when I said we were over,” she said at last. “I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Mako looked at her. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“You might think you’re so high and mighty with your little paintings, but what are you going to do with your life, huh, Korra? You break up with me, and who’s going to help you pay for all the stuff you can’t afford on your own? ‘Oh, hey, Mako, I’m a little short for art supplies, could you spot me?’ or ‘Hey, Mako, our cable got shut off again’.”

“I have never asked you for money,” Korra said, trying to keep her voice even.

“Yeah, but you were all too happy to accept when I offered. And I always offered.” He tossed the cigarette on the ground and turned his body to face her. “I’ve been there for you and your family every step of the way. When your parents’ car stalled, who bought them a new battery? Me.”

“They’ve always paid you back,” Korra said. “And why do you always make everything about money? You think I’ve stayed with you all of this time because of your money?”

“I’m sure it didn’t hurt.”

“You’re deluded.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I loved you,” Korra said softly.

Mako looked away. “And you don’t anymore. Is that it?”

“I’m not in love with you anymore, no.”

Mako nodded slowly. “I guess there’s nothing else for me to say, then.” He stood.

“Wait,” Korra said, and dug in her bag for her cell phone. “You should probably have this back.”

Mako took the object in his hands and stared down at it. After a moment, he swung his arm back and threw the phone against the wall next to them. It shattered into several pieces and scattered across the ground.

Several people stopped to stare in their direction.

“For the record,” he said, “I still love you,” and with that, he walked away.

***

“So, what did you think?” Lin Beifong motioned to the script between them, linking her hands together in expectation.

Asami picked up her glass of orange juice and looked at her agent with a look that she hoped didn’t require elaboration.

“I thought you might hate it.” Lin sighed. “Well, the good news is I do have something else that just came through. It’s an indie, though it has a pretty good budget. Enough to pay your usual salary, anyway. The director is fairly unknown, though she’s been around for a while. Her name is Taylor Rose. Heard of her?” When Asami shook her head, he continued, “Well, she’s done some television shows, a few low budget pictures, nothing major, but she’s got a few awards under her belt. Sundance loves her.” She dug into her briefcase for the script and dropped it on the table. “She really wants you for the lead.”

Asami picked up the stack of papers and glanced at the title. “Summer’s Dance,” she read.

“Only catch is, you’d have to play gay,” Lin said with a shrug.

Asami put the script down. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’ve been begging me for something different for a while, so I’m delivering different. You’d even get to die at the end.”

“Sounds uplifting,” Asami muttered. She glanced at the script. She’d passed up many roles in the past for the simple fact that she did not want to play a lesbian character, and yet, here was another one, beckoning. “The lead, huh?”

Lin smiled, cheering up. “Oh yeah. Great role, too. I think it’d be a great career move, Asami. Get you out of that Guardian rut you’re in. People see you in something like this, maybe it won’t be so hard to get you some of those roles you’ve been lusting after.”

She picked up the script again and flipped through it.

“She highlighted your part,” Lin said.

“Elizabeth Doyle,” Asami read. “Do you know where this is filming?”

“New York,” Lin said.

Asami glanced up at him. “New York?”

“Yeah, they’re filming on location. Where the hell is that waiter?” Lin looked around. “His tip is going down by the second.”

Asami chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the screenplay in her hands. The lead. In New York. I love New York. But a lesbian? “I’ll read it,” she said finally. “When do they need to know by?”

“Sooner the better, I imagine, though they didn’t specify a date. Filming starts in March, I think. I can get you a meeting set up with the director if you want. She sounds like she’ll bend over backwards to get you in this film, and that’s never a bad thing.”

Asami smiled. She put the script in her bag and sat back to enjoy the suddenly beautiful day around her. “No, not a bad thing at all.”

***

“Wow, maybe for him the sex really was that good,” and Korra looked up from the newspaper she was reading to see Kuvira entering the kitchen with a large bouquet of red roses.

Korra smiled. “Wow, who was the lucky guy?”

Kuvira placed the flowers on the table and grinned at Korra. “Oh, no. These aren’t for me. These, my friend, are for you.” She picked up the card and cleared her throat. “Dearest Korra, I miss all of the mind blowing orgasms you gave me. I especially miss that thing you do with your tongue—“

Korra snatched the card from Kuvira’s hand.

_ Korra, _

_ I’m sorry. Can we talk? _

_ Love, _

_ Mako _

“What the hell,” Korra said, staring at the words.

“Boy’s got it bad. Who knew?” Kuvira leaned down to smell the flowers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he came around here singing, ‘I can change, I can change...’”

“Singing what?”

“From South Park. You know, when Sadaam is trying to win Satan back. In the movie...”

Korra stared at her blankly.

“Wow. Okay, never mind.” Kuvira sat down. “But you know, it really is like you’re Satan, all sensitive and stuff, and Sadaam wants to convince you that he’ll do better. He won’t do better, Korra. Trust me.”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said.” Korra shook her head. “Anyway, he can send all the flowers in the world. I’m not taking him back.”

“That’s the spirit. So, what do you want to do tonight? Girls night out? Girls night in?”

Korra shrugged. “I’m not really in an out on the town mood,” she said.

“Girls night in it is,” Kuvira said. “Pick a movie theme: romance, horror, action...”

“Tell you what,” Korra said, standing, “I’m going to grab a quick shower and then we’ll go see what’s out.”

“It’s a date.”

***

“It’s not a date,” Opal insisted as quietly as possible while still being audible over Asami’s chopping. “She’s a friend. You said it was okay to invite her over.”

Chop. Chop. Chop.

“When did I say that?” Asami demanded, sliding the perfectly sliced onions into a pan. She glanced into the living room to make sure Opal’s ‘friend’ hadn’t heard them and returned to the cooking at hand.

“On the phone,” Opal prompted, sniffling. She hated onions. “Shit.” Her eyes burned and she wiped a tear away.

Asami frowned at her. “Well there’s no sense in crying about it. I’m not going to fire you for bringing her here.” She glanced into the living room again and shook her head. She continued her chopping. “And anyway, when you said ‘friend’ I didn’t really picture her being...”

“What?” Opal said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

Asami waved her knife around. After a moment, she shrugged. “I don’t know...”

“Gay?”

“No,” Asami said firmly. “Well, yes. Actually I hadn’t thought about it. I just didn’t expect someone so...”

“Butch?”

Asami shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Opal studied the actress for a moment.

“No...” Asami focused on chopping the rest of the onions. “Of course I don’t.”

“It’s not a date,” Opal said again. “But... if you’re interested, I’m sure I could talk her into...” She ventured a hopeful smile.

Asami held up the knife. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“It’s not like I told her anything about you,” Opal said quickly holding up her hands. “I just thought... maybe...”

“We’d hit it off and live happily ever after?” Asami arched a brow.

“God no.” Opal laughed. “I don’t think Sarah’s been with one person for more than one... ah... not something I should be telling you.” She coughed. “More like... I thought, maybe you two could—“

“Okay, I think I get the picture. Two things: first, she’s so far from my type it’s not even funny and sec—“

“Really?”

“Really what?”

“Not your type?” Opal glanced back at Sarah and bit her lip thoughtfully. “I’m usually better at gauging these things.”

“And second,” Asami continued, “if you ever try to set me up again, I’ll kill you. Clear? Good. Now go set the table.”

“Yes, Boss.” Opal went to get the plates and silverware from the cupboard. Items in hand she started toward the dining room table, but paused. “Umm... just for curiosity’s sake, and not at all for future reference... what is your type?”

Asami stared at her assistant, and considered tossing a tomato slice at her in reply. Instead, she said, “When I find her, I’ll let you know.”

***

Korra yawned into the sleeve of her sweater and struggled to keep her eyes open through what had to be the eighth car chase scene she’d sat through that evening. Kuvira’s movie selection methods consisted of finding the DVD covers with the hottest actors and proclaiming them ‘Must See’ movies. If she had to sit through one more scene where something exploded, her brain would be the next in line.

“I’m sorry,” she said after several minutes. “I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”

“What? But we haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet. I’m sure he takes off his shirt at some point.”

“As riveting as that plot development sounds, I think I’ll skip out. All the other topless male models we saw before this one will just have to tie me over until tomorrow.”

“Party pooper,” Kuvira said, tossing a handful of popcorn in Korra’s direction. “Listen, speaking of male models, I was thinking that tomorrow night we could hang out with some of the guys I work with.

“Not this again.” Korra sighed, plucking popcorn from her hair.

“Look, I entirely respect your free woman movement, but let’s face it, you could still do with a little fun in the bedroom.”

“Is everything about sex with you?”

“And acting. Oh, and coffee. The rest is optional.”

Korra stared at her best friend and smiled patiently. “I know this might seem like a radical concept, but I’m actually okay with not having sex for a while.”

“That’s only because you haven’t been doing it properly. I can’t even begin to fathom the nightmare that Mako must have been in bed.”

“He wasn’t that bad,” Korra said, feeling defensive for no good reason. “Not that I have very much to compare him to...”

“Exactly. You need a point of reference. Or two. Maybe at the same time?”

“I’m going to bed.”

Kuvira shut off the TV and shifted on the couch to face Korra. “I just don’t want you moping around the apartment for the rest of your life. There’s a whole world out there, Korra. You should learn to live in it.”

“I just don’t think of living life as hopping from one guy’s bed to another. I want more than that...”

“I thought you didn’t want another relationship?”

“I don’t. Well, I do. Eventually. Just not right now. For now, I just want to... I don’t know, go to a museum and sit there for hours not having to worry about having to exist on someone else’s schedule. I want to go to bed, not worrying about whether or not I’m taking up too much room. I want to just be alone. And sex, while important, is not the center of my universe.”

Kuvira quietly contemplated Korra’s words. Finally she said, “All right then. I guess we’ll just take a trip to Toys in Babeland tomorrow. My Bullet is being funky, anyway. I think I wore it out.”

“Was it really necessary to share that tidbit of information?”

Kuvira chuckled. “Your problem, Korra, is that you need to loosen up.”

***

Later, as Korra sat in bed staring at her computer screen, she wondered if Kuvira was right.

Was it really that she didn’t want to sleep around, or was it simply that she was too scared to? The thought of meeting up at a sleazy bar and hooking up with a random guy was entirely unappealing. So what if he was good looking? There had to be more to a person than that. What about conversation? Or getting to know someone? Was she stupid to want those things?

Despite what Kuvira suspected, the problem with her and Mako had never been that he was bad in bed. To the contrary, it was probably one of the few points in their relationship where she felt like they connected.

If sex had been the problem, Korra would have considered herself lucky. Finding sex was easy. Finding respect, trust... love...

Those were the things you had to dig for.

***

Asami wondered at what point it was considered okay to kick people out of her home. Was it okay, for example, to interrupt her best friend and her assistant in the middle of their make-out session on her couch to tell them – kindly – to please take it elsewhere?

The movie on the screen flickered on, but Asami was too grossed out by the kissing noises happening a few feet away from her to pay much attention to the plot.

Then there was Sarah. Sarah had been staring at her since the lights had gone out. Asami wondered if subtlety was something lacking in the lesbian community or if the girl simply didn’t care if Asami knew.

In an attempt to dissuade her, Asami turned her head to look at her, but Sarah caught her eye and winked.

Asami swirled her head around and decided to concentrate instead on the many ways she would make Opal pay for this.

“You’re really beautiful,” Sarah whispered. “But you probably get told that a lot. I hope I’m not too forward in saying it.”

Asami remained silent, wondering if this was a nightmare she would mercifully awake from.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in Asami Sato’s living room,” Sarah continued. “I mean, I knew Opal worked for you and everything, but... wow.”

A high-pitched giggle caused both of them to turn their heads in Bolin and Opal’s direction.

Asami rolled her eyes.

“Weird seeing your ex with someone else, isn’t it?” Sarah said. “I mean, Opal and I weren’t really a couple or anything, but you know. It’s still weird seeing someone you’ve slept with kissing someone else.”

“You slept with Opal?” Asami asked, and suddenly realized she’d said it loud enough to be heard across the room. Kissing noises abruptly stopped.

“What?” Bolin was saying.

“Uh...” Opal said.

“You slept with her?” Bolin hooked a thumb in Sarah’s direction. “Seriously?”

“Hey! What is that supposed to mean?” Sarah said. “’Seriously?’”

“Just once!” Opal said defensively.

“Well, one night,” Sarah countered. “But if I recall there were multiple sessions.”

Bolin gaped.

Asami, for her part, covered her face with her hand.

“Sarah!” Opal cried.

“I need to get out of here,” Bolin said, rising from the couch. “This is a little too weird for me right now.”

“What the hell! You knew I slept with women.”

“You could have told me this was one of them.” Bolin headed for the front door, Opal right behind him.

“Don’t you walk away from me!”

Sarah jumped up to follow them. “Hey, who the hell is driving me home?”

The slamming door thundered throughout the house.

“Well, that’s one way to get rid of people,” Asami decided.

***

It had been over a week and Asami had yet to reply to the artist. If it weren’t for the fact that she kept thinking about it, Asami would have considered the entire matter behind her. And yet, she still found herself at the computer almost every night, checking to see if Korra would write to her anyway. Each time, the inbox turned up empty and Asami would be left with the undeniable compulsion to reply; just one more time.

It was the not knowing what to say that always stopped her. She simply didn’t know how to offer relationship advice. And by now, she imagined, the time for it had passed.

_ Dear Korra, _ she typed, surprising herself, and yet not moving to close the reply window. A part of her felt it was inevitable that she should reply eventually, despite herself. She sat back against the pillows to think about the rest. Her bedroom was dark, save for the light from her computer screen. Before picking up the computer, she had been trying, unsuccessfully, to sleep. Her thoughts invariably drifted to Sarah, and she wondered if she’d been stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity. How often were gay women sitting on her couch, calling her beautiful? So what if she hadn’t been attracted to her? Beneath the baggy pants and extra large T-shirt Sarah was still a woman... that had to be enough, no?

Yet the thought of kissing Sarah didn’t excite Asami in any way. And the fact that Sarah had slept with Opal made the entire situation even less appealing.

Asami shook her head at the thought, dismissing it and Sarah along with it. She had never been the type to settle for anything, why should she start now?

Turning back to the task at hand, she started typing.

_ I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner. I want to say that I’ve been busy or that things came up, but the truth is, I just didn’t know how to reply to your last email. In the spirit of honesty, I should admit that my relationship experience is practically zero. Actually, I’m not sure that it would even merit a ‘practically’, I just didn’t want to sound like a complete loser. _

_ I generally save those kinds of admissions for at least the third or fourth sentences in a paragraph. _

_ But despite the fact that I know nothing about love – having never been lucky (unlucky?) enough to be in it – I want to believe that true love doesn’t just vanish. The romantic in me wants to believe that love conquers all, that you can live happily ever after, and so on and so forth. _

_ Unfortunately, I imagine that love, like life, is nowhere near as simple as that. First, you have to meet someone you’re attracted to, not just in looks, but in personality. And how often does that happen? Well, perhaps you have better luck in that department than I do... _

_ But then, even if you meet someone you’re attracted to, whose personality rocks your world, what are the odds that they find you equally engaging? _

_ To be honest, I’m not really sure how people even manage it. I have two friends who recently ended up in bed together and now seem to be in a relationship. I sometimes wonder: how did that happen? Did they just look at each other and know that the other wanted the same thing? Did they talk about it? Was it just a feeling? _

_ When does that moment occur, that friendship turns to lust, and like turns to love, and it just so happens that it’s mutual? _

_ It all sounds terribly unlikely, don’t you think? _

_ I guess the reason that I’m burdening you with all of these rambling thoughts at what would be three in the morning for you, is that tonight a friend tried to set me up with someone, and despite the fact that my lack of romantic endeavors should make me desperate to be with anyone with a pulse, I find myself incapable of settling. _

_ No matter how unlikely the chances that I may meet that ‘right’ person, I can’t bring myself to be with the wrong one. Still, I keep thinking, what if what I think is the wrong person at first glance, actually turns out to be The One upon closer inspection. How close do you have to look before you know for sure? _

_ Until soon, _

_ Sami _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15 will be up sometime tomorrow :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra absently tapped the rubber end of her number two pencil against the open text book in front of her, certain that somehow, the rhythmic beat helped her concentrate. She read through three sentences before her gaze wandered around the kitchen. The time on the microwave read 7:49, and she stared until the numbers changed. Ten minutes remained of her allotted study time, and she sighed, feeling anxious to move on to something else.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of her laptop, and despite her resolution to study, she couldn’t help but read over the words on the screen. Though she had yet to reply, Korra had still to close Sami’s last email. It gave her something to think about during her moments of procrastination, when thinking about love and life and relationships seemed far more interesting than solving redundant equations.

Korra glanced up at the time again: 7:51. It was close enough to eight o’clock, she decided, slamming shut the Calculus text. She still had days before the next exam. Relieved, and feeling productive, she pulled the laptop closer and the homework out of the way.

After grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge, she sat back down and began her reply.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ Having only had one relationship, I’m certainly no expert in the ways of love. I don’t remember exactly how Mako and I got together to begin with. I remember the basics, the where and when and how we met, but I can’t recall the precise moment when we went from strangers to friends to more. _

_ All I know is that we met at an art gallery many years ago. My best friend, Kuvira (my now roommate), thought it would be fun to crash an upscale benefit party, hosted by a totally overrated New York artist at a totally overrated art gallery uptown. I remember we got dressed up in our fanciest attire, and that Kuvira made me rehearse a “script” she made up to get us in. We worked on the “lines” during the subway ride. I suppose this is where I reveal that my best friend is an actress. We paint a pretty clichéd picture of New York, don’t we? Struggling artist, hopeful actress... _

_ Anyway, I thought Kuvira’s idea was both hysterical and ridiculous, and I think the only reason that I even agreed to go was that I never thought we’d actually get in... _

_ As it happened, the guy checking invitations turned out to be an old high school friend of Kuvira’s and he let us through. It’s weird how things happen, isn’t it? _

_ Needless to say, Mako was there. His family is very New York elite. They are everywhere that matters, and by extension, so is Mako. _

_ I try to remember the moment we met often, but it’s fuzzy. I don’t remember if we were looking at art or if we were just standing near art, but I remember he smiled at me. The exact dialogue escapes me, probably because I was so nervous about being caught there. So I remember that when he smiled at me, I got really nervous. I thought, “Oh no, he can see I don’t belong here...” _

_ But he only wanted to chat about how boring the party was and how his parents had forced him to attend. I found him easy to talk to, and I started to relax, forgetting about the party or the fact that Kuvira had disappeared into the crowd and left me all alone. _

_ I can’t say that I thought anything would come of it, though. It was only a conversation, and I figured that once we ran out of subject matter he would smile politely and excuse himself. _

_ I could tell, just by looking at him, that he was really wealthy. Only, he didn’t come across as cocky or self-involved. I guess that’s why, in spite of myself, I gave him my number when he asked. Well, that, and I didn’t know how to refuse. _

_ I’m tempted to say, “And then the clock struck midnight and I fled the party, leaving behind one of my cheap Payless shoes...” But, I won’t. Heh. _

_ A few days after the party, after it had become just a fun story to tell friends, Mako called. _

_ I came clean on the phone, about how my friend and I had crashed the party and how I was very far from being the heiress to a family fortune or anything like that. I thought the information would turn him off, but to the contrary, he seemed all the more interested. _

_ Sometimes, I think he was just trying to rebel against his parents by dating me. Who knows? All the same, I agreed on a date. It went well... and I guess more dates just followed. _

_ It’s strange because I feel like most of it just happened. One date followed another, until a kiss came, and then time passed, and one thing followed the other. There was never a moment when I wondered, “Am I even attracted to him?” I didn’t question it. I just let it happen. _

_ I guess my feelings on it sound terribly unromantic, but that might only be my current feelings clouding the memory. The truth is, I think that for the most part, these things happen. And maybe because they ‘just happen’ they sometimes end up ... well, ending. I’m sure that if people started to think over every minute detail of everything they might never date at all. _

_ Hm. That’s not to say that you will never date at all ... _

_ I find it inspiring, actually, the idea of not settling. Of knowing what you want and waiting patiently for it. I suppose maybe I’ll aim for that next. Only, I guess the question for me is mainly: how do you know what you want? _

Korra sat back to stare at her own question, surprised at having written it. She had always known that she wanted to be an artist; known it since the moment she’d picked up a pencil to write her very first ‘A’ and ended up with a drawing of the kitchen window instead.

She remembered staring at the window, at the way the light filtered through the leaves of the trees outside. She remembered thinking there was nothing more beautiful than the beams of light shining upon the paper on the table; a paper that suddenly seemed terribly empty despite the wide lines. She could think of nothing more suitable to fill it with than the power of that moment. It was a rough attempt, far from perfect or even good, but when the pencil finally lifted from the page, she felt happy; whole.

Korra stared thoughtfully at the question on the screen, pondering whether or not to erase it.

Didn’t she know what she wanted? Didn’t the usual conglomeration of adjectives – funny, smart, caring, artistic, etc – conjure up an adequate image of The One?

_ I want to believe that when I find The One it will be obvious. That there will be a moment, something fast and barely palpable that will say, ‘This is it.’ But that’s just the romantic in me talking, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m much of a romantic at all. It’s more likely that I’ll finally give in, let my roommate set me up with some of the eight million guys she’s always trying to set me up with, and one of them will be close enough to ideal that a blind date will turn into a second date, and so on and so forth. _

_ I guess I don’t know how to answer your question about how close to look before you know. Maybe it depends. Maybe, with some people you have to dig. Maybe with others it’s immediate. You never know until you try, right? _

_ All the same, whatever it is that you’re looking for... I hope you find it. _

_ Korra _

***

Asami dropped the marker on the coffee table and stretched out her hand. She sighed with relief. “Done. Thank God. If I have to sign one more picture of myself I’ll...” She paused to think of something suitably dramatic. “...fling myself into the sea.”

Opal snorted. “I can’t believe you stopped to think and that’s what you came up with. Fling yourself into the sea?”

Asami rolled her eyes. “Shut up. Would you rather me yeet myself off a cliff? I’ve been signing my name over and over for the past three hours. Do you know what that does to a person’s brain?”

“It flings it into the sea or yeets it off a cliff?”

Asami shook her head, capped the marker, and threw it at Opal.

Her assistant laughed as she batted the object away. “Nice aim. And anyway, you shouldn’t complain. I’ve been licking envelopes. My tongue is numb, and how do I know the glue isn’t poisonous?”

“Like on Seinfeld?”

“Yes! Exactly. I’m going to die a slow, painful death right here on your carpet. Death by licking.” Opal reddened slightly. “Envelopes,” she added softly. “Licking envelopes.”

Asami decided not to comment further. Any conversation involving tongues and licking could only lead one place. “So what’s next on today’s fun-filled agenda?”

“Next up is a little game I like to call ‘Replying to Phone Messages Gone Ignored For Far Too Long’.”

“I already don’t like this game.”

“Tough. This is why you pay me the big bucks.” Opal took a minute to put away the signed copies of photos, and took out a stack of notes. “First up, Misaki.”

“Oy.”

“She called twice on Monday to remind you about Nobu’s phone call. Then she called again on Tuesday to ask how the phone call went. On Wednesday she called three times to demand why you had not answered Nobu’s call. Yesterday she called to say that you were embarrassing her, and to please have the decency to return people’s phone calls.”

“Who the hell is Nobu?”

Opal went on to the next slip. “Doctor Nobu Nakamura called Monday night to say that Misaki had given him your number. He wanted to ask if you would like to join him for dinner on Thursday night.”

“Right. Well, I’ve been swamped. Did you tell them I was swamped?”

“I told Misaki you were filming and your hours were crazy. I told Nobu that you didn’t swing that way.” Opal smiled sweetly, and then dodged a pillow. It hit the couch behind her. She laughed. “I told him the same thing. That you’d be filming late into the night and that you probably wouldn’t be able to get back to him until the weekend.”

“Urgh.”

“That’s the spirit. Next up is Taylor Rose.”

Asami glanced up at the name. “She’s that director...”

“Yeah, and she’s going to be in L.A. Saturday and Sunday and begged for an hour of your time whenever possible. I checked your schedule and you’re free pretty much all day Saturday if you want to do lunch or something.”

Asami nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Set it up.”

Opal jotted something down. “So, what’s the film about? I saw you reading the script the other day. Is it good?”

Asami nodded and found herself smiling despite her reluctance to accept the role. “It’s really, really good actually.”

“But?”

“How do you know there’s a but?”

“There’s always a but with you.”

Asami let out a long breath and looked over at Sam. “It’s a lesbian role.”

Opal’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to take it! Please. Who will you be kissing? Oh, my God.”

“Are you quite done?”

“No! Can I read it? Is it here? Can I read it?”

“Glad to know that you see my dilemma,” Asami said dryly, taking a sip of her drink.

“Is it a lead role?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. Wow.” She took a deep breath and attempted to look calm and collected. “So what’s the dilemma?” She suddenly looked serious. “Are you worried it’s going to out you?”

Asami sighed. “There’s that, but... it’s a lot of things.”

Opal put down her stack of messages and regarded Asami with a concerned expression. “Want to talk about it?”

Asami bit her lip. She didn’t even want to think about it, let alone talk about it. But she supposed she had to. If she was going to meet with the director she needed to have her thoughts in order. “It’s going to sound silly.”

“Try me.”

“Well, you know... I’ve done love scenes in the past, right?”

“God, yes! That scene with you and Erik Axel in Rivera Crescent was so hot. The part where they just show that shot of you on top of – ah, I’m sorry. That’s not where I meant to go with this conversation. Yes. Love scenes. Continue.”

Asami arched an eyebrow at her assistant, but shook her head, continuing. “Well, I didn’t mind doing them because I always thought of it as part of the acting...”

“But with a girl it wouldn’t be acting?”

“No! It would... that’s... the problem.” Asami ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “I just never figured that my first kiss with a girl would be... fake.”

Opal smiled brightly. “Aww, who knew Asami Sato was such a romantic?”

Despite herself, Asami blushed.

“Maybe we just need to get you a girl to make out with before you start filming,” Opal suggested.

“That... no.” Asami shook her head. “I don’t want to hook up with some random person.”

“Mmm, well finding your one true love in time might be more of a challenge,” she said, reaching for her PDA, “but I think you have a free hour next week between the photo shoot and the talk show interview. I’ll stylus it in.”

Asami smiled. “Funny.”

Opal smiled sympathetically. “I guess you just have to decide what’s more important to you: a role you want to play, or your reservations about playing it.”

Asami thought about it for a long moment. Finally, she sighed in a way that meant they were in for a change of subject. “How’s Bolin doing? I haven’t heard from him since your dramatic exit the other day. I keep getting his voice mail.”

It was Opal’s turn to look uncomfortable. She capped and uncapped the pen in her hand several times before replying. “He was really upset. We had a horrifically awkward drive to Sarah’s and then a horribly silent drive to my place.” She bit her lip. “He’s not answering my calls. I had no idea he’d be so angry. He’s known all of this time that I dated women. I thought he didn’t care. I half expected him to ask for a threesome.”

The last part was said jokingly but Asami heard the insecurity in the words. “He’ll come around,” she said, believing it was true, yet hoping she wasn’t wrong. “He really cares about you, Opal. He wouldn’t be this upset if he didn’t. He’s just scared.”

Opal nodded. “You know what’s crazy? I was so freaked out about you and him. I mean, I really thought you were secretly in love with him and that any day now you would turn around and tell him so, and that would be it.” She bit her lip again. “I’m sure you’ve probably guessed by now that I had a crush on you before and I’m not saying that to make you uncomfortable. I mean, you’re you. You’re gorgeous, so it figures that you’d also be smart and funny and all of that other stuff that makes you both sickening and irresistible to the rest of us mere mortals.”

Asami didn’t know what to say, so she waited for Opal to continue. She was trying hard not to appear as uncomfortable as she felt.

“Anyway,” Opal continued, “I knew that if there was a chance, any chance, that you cared for Bolin in that way, that he would come running to you without a second thought. You have to know he’s loved you since the moment he met you, even if it was just platonic. And he’s really good at hiding it so it’s hard to say where he stands in those feelings lately, but... well... I... I think I’m in love with him.”

“Oh,” was all Asami could manage, surprised at how shocked she felt by the confession. She swallowed, feeling awkward and out-of-place in a conversation about love. “Have you told him that?”

“Are you crazy? It’s Bolin. He’d freak.”

“Well, he’s already freaked in what appears to be the opposite extreme, so maybe this will bring him back to a healthy middle ground.”

Opal looked thoughtful. “Maybe I could stand outside his apartment holding up a huge sign that reads, ‘I love you, you moron.’”

Asami grinned. “Now who’s the romantic?”

“Ugh.” Opal sighed, then smiled. “Thanks for letting me ramble.”

“Any time. It’s not every day a girl confesses having had a crush on me and being in love with my best friend all in the same conversation.”

“Ah, well. You pay me to keep your life interesting.” Opal sat up and picked up the stack of messages again. “So, back to work.” She pushed Asami’s cell phone closer to the actress and then handed over a slip of paper. “Time for a game I like to call ‘Asami Calls Back People She Doesn’t Want to Talk to While I Read That Juicy Movie Script.’” Opal clapped her hands in anticipation. “Where is it?”

“I’m really starting to hate your games.” Asami paused and sighed. “It’s on my desk.”

***

After Opal had gone and the sound of company and conversation had faded into silence, Asami lay back on the lounge chair and stared up at the sky. Above her, the moon burned dimly, if at all, its light temporarily lost behind patches of clouds.

She had missed another sunset.

The realization upset her less than she was used to, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to visualize her mother. The image Asami held in her mind was beginning to wane. The green eyes, so similar to her own, were growing harder to picture. The voice, the laugh, the sounds were all but gone.

Asami opened her eyes and forced her thoughts to drift. She thought of her pending meeting with a director whose movie script she both loved and dreaded. Other notable scripts would come, wouldn’t they? Why take this one?

Why not take it?

It was probable that the only females Asami would kiss would be in front of a camera anyway. Who was she going to meet hidden away in her house? Who would she risk dating in the Hollywood world? Who outside of it would she even trust?

Her thoughts shifted to Korra, and Asami’s heart sped up at the recollection that she hadn’t checked her mail in days. Her filming schedule had allowed for very little, and suddenly, the thought that she had an unread email in her inbox filled her with a sense of urgency.

Upstairs, the laptop hummed to life with a touch of a key, and Asami sat at her desk waiting for her webmail to load. At the sight of the name Korra, Asami smiled, double-clicking the name as fast as modern technology allowed.

She read over Korra’s words, feeling both fascinated and guilty. At the end of the email, she paused at the words, “You never know until you try,” before continuing.

When she’d finished reading she sat back on the chair and frowned. Even if she was open to trying, whom would she try with? Sarah was very much out of the question, which only left Opal, and Asami was pretty sure that was out of the question too.

Sitting up, she hit ‘reply’ and settled her fingers on the keyboard.

_ Dear Korra, _

_ Once again I apologize for the delay in my reply. This time I blame work and its crazy, demanding, inhumane hours. Things should start to settle down soon, though, so you can expect more timely emails from me. Assuming, of course, you don’t get sick of me in the meantime, which would be understandable, and even expected. _

_ Hm. Normally, I’m not so self-deprecating. I’m sorry. _

_ I’m not normally so overly apologetic, either. In fact, maybe I’m not me at all. Perhaps I’ve been replaced by a pod. A self-deprecating, overly-apologetic... pod. _

_ Never mind. Let me start this email over: Dear Korra, _

_ I am not sorry for the delay in my reply, nor do I think you may ever tire of waiting around for my emails.  _

_ Normally, I’m not so arrogant... _

_ [We’ll just pretend I wrote a relatively normal-sounding intro to this email and have moved on to relevant topics of conversation...] _

_ I don’t know that I’ve ever considered myself a romantic – though a friend called me just that earlier today. I’ve never believed in love at first sight or anything of the sort. These days, honestly, I’m more prone to believe that I’ll be single forever. Unlike you, I don’t expect much would ever come from a blind date. _

_ Actually, since we’re on the subject, I have a blind date on Saturday evening. Dinner. With a doctor. My stepmother forced this upon me and well... _

Asami stopped typing, and for a long time her finger hovered over the backspace button. If she continued down this path, she would have to admit certain truths to the artist, and she wasn’t certain that was the best course of action. Even if Korra had no idea who Asami really was, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t one day find out. And then what? Would she release all the emails between them to the press? Would the media be able to track back the emails to Asami?

Horrific scenarios flashed through Asami’s mind, complete with tabloid headlines. What would stop Korra from blabbing?

And still, Asami didn’t delete anything. She wanted to trust the artist. She wanted to hold on to the belief that they could be friends. Friends who might exchange emails their entire lives and never meet, but friends nonetheless.

Frowning, Asami removed her fingers from the keyboard.

There was also the matter of how Korra might take Asami’s admission. What were the odds that a New York artist was homophobic? Asami had no idea.

Without much thought, she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed.

“Asami?”

“Bolin?”

“Asami?”

“Bolin?”

There was silence and then a loud sigh. “What can I do for you?”

Asami hesitated, foreseeing the consequences of what she was about to say. “If I ask you something, do you promise not to ask me any questions in relation to what I’m about to ask you?”

“Uh...”

“I ask. You answer. I hang up.”

“Alright ...”

“Okay.” Asami took a deep breath. “What do you think are the odds that an artist in New York is homophobic?”

“What?”

“That’s a question!”

“Sorry. I would like to know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey! That’s a thinly veiled question!”

“You said nothing about thinly veiled questions.”

“Never mind. I’m hanging up. Oh, and by the way, you’re being an idiot. Call Opal.”

“What?”

“Bye!” Asami hung up before Bolin had a chance to say anything else. She contemplated her next move, and then dialed. Opal picked up on the second ring.

“If I ask you something do you promise to just answer without asking any questions, thinly veiled or otherwise, about what I’m about to ask you?”

“Er ... does my job depend on it?”

“Of course.”

“Then shoot.”

“Hypothetically speaking, what do you think the odds are that an artist in New York is homophobic?”

“Well that would depend. Are they originally from New York?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay... well, are they religious?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mmkay. Did they vote Republican?”

“Opal, I don’t know. I don’t know her very well.” Asami flinched. “Hypothetically ... of course.”

“Her?”

“That’s a question.”

“Asami, this isn’t fair! You can’t just call someone up and ask a question like that without it raising some eyebrows.”

Asami sighed. “Look, just close your eyes and think about it. Your normal, run of the mill artist type... homophobic?”

There was a pause and then, “I would say no, but you can’t know for sure. It’s never a good idea to make assumptions on this matter.”

“Okay. Thanks, Opal.”

“Asami ... why are you asking this?”

Asami hadn’t ever considered telling Opal and Bolin about Korra. Partly because she felt guilty about lying to a stranger, partly because she was embarrassed about having emailed the artist in the first place, and partly because she’d never expected the emails to go on for so long. Opal and Bolin would naturally blow the whole thing out of proportion. How would it look to them that she, Asami Sato, was exchanging emails with a girl, lying about her identity, while still divulging her inner most secrets? Naturally, they’d jump to the very incorrect conclusion that Asami might have more-than-friendly feelings toward the artist, and turn the entire situation into something awkward and exaggerated. Telling them the truth was out of the question. She’d never live this down.

“Asami? Still there?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m here. Look, Opal, there’s nothing really to talk about. I was just... uh. I was working on a short story and my main character is an artist in New York and I was just wondering whether or not she should be... ah, homophobic. So there. Now you know. I like to dabble in the literary arts after dark.”

“How illicit.”

“It’s my naughty little secret. Now, I must return to it before my muse runs away.”

“Ah-huh. Talk to you tomorrow, Shakespeare.”

Asami hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. She had no idea if Opal believed her or not – she doubted it, actually – but at least it had gotten her off the phone.

The email stared back at her from the computer screen and Asami placed her hands on the keyboard once again.

_ Actually, since we’re on the subject, I have a blind date on Saturday evening. Dinner. With a doctor. My stepmother forced this upon me and well ... he’s not really my type. I expect much awkwardness and uncomfortable silence. _

_ Does it count as a date if you know beforehand that there is no chance in hell that anything will come of it? _

_ Sami _

Asami sat back, thinking. She’d opened the door to the possibility that Korra would ask some direct questions. Now it was just a matter of deciding, if the questions ever came, whether or not she’d lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ship has set sail... sorta


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Hi,” he said in a tone so unfamiliar that Korra didn’t know who had spoken until she’d looked up. Mako stood in front of her, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. His gaze drifted around the park before settling back on Korra. “It’s getting kind of cold to be out here.”

The wind blew strongly at that moment, dragging an empty water bottle across the ground.

Korra watched it silently, briefly irritated at the person who had tossed it. Under normal circumstances she would have picked it up. Instead, she did nothing but hold the pages of her sketchpad down as the wind picked up again. “It’s fine,” she said.

“Did you like the flowers?”

Korra looked down, feeling tired now. She wished he would leave. “What do you want, Mako?”

He sat down beside her without waiting for an invitation. He must have known she wouldn’t offer one. “I wanted to apologize.”

Korra stared at his profile, trying not to appear as surprised as she felt. Mako? Apologizing? To her?

“It wasn’t your fault that I ...” Mako hesitated and started again. “My parents were putting a lot of pressure on me to find someone else.” He glanced at her quickly. “It’s not that they don’t like you it’s just that you’re... you’re not...” 

Korra tried to ignore the sinking feeling that always accompanied the thought of Mako’s parents. Of course she knew that she was not upper class. Of course she knew that his parents didn’t approve of her, of her family, of her and Mako’s relationship. Of course she knew they had threatened to cut Mako off if he didn’t break up with her. They had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t good enough for him.

Mako shifted to face her. “Things got really ugly, and I had to tell them that we’d broken up.”

Korra swallowed, hating that this hurt her. “When?”

“Six months ago,” he said. “I’m sorry, Korra. It was the only way they’d leave me alone. The only way they’d leave us alone. But, it wasn’t enough.” He paused and breathed deeply, indicating that was to follow was much worse. “They set me up with someone. The daughter of one of my father’s business partners. She’s headed to Harvard as well, and we... we really hit it off. That’s why I’ve been so distant. I’ve... I’ve been seeing her.”

Korra blinked at him, unable to formulate words.

“I meant it when I said that I love you. It’s why I brought up your transferring to Harvard and being engaged. I wanted to believe that you and I could make it. That whatever I was feeling for Vanessa was only temporary...”

“Vanessa,” Korra said softly, thinking the name would spark something in her. Anger or bitterness or something. Anything besides emptiness. “Did you sleep with her while we were together?”

Mako looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Korra nodded. “Thanks for telling me,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Korra...”

“It’s fine,” she said, not sure if it was true or not. The cold was getting to her now, and she needed to walk. Perhaps if she walked it would rid her of the numbness settling in on her. “Please stop calling me.”

“Do you hate me?”

“No,” and this she knew was true. “But I don’t want to see you again. Not any time soon. Maybe someday, in ten years or so, we’ll run into each other by accident, and we’ll be able to smile at each other and think back on this moment in a bittersweet kind of way. Maybe then, I will be happy to see you. Maybe. But right now, if I were to see you again, if I were to run into you and see you smiling and laughing with a group of friends, if you were to call me up and say ‘hi’, I think I would hate you. And maybe I will hate you anyway, once I walk away from you now and think about this. I can’t promise I won’t. But right now, at this very moment, all I feel is relieved. Relieved that this is over. Relieved that I’m not longer yours to hurt. Send my best to Vanessa. I wish you both the best. Goodbye, Mako.”

The empty water bottle caught her eye as she walked away, and she bent down to pick it up.

***

“I can’t believe that asshole.” Kuvira was scrubbing the table top so hard that Korra thought the paint would come off. “Cheating on you like that? You! How dare he? Who does he think he is?”

Korra looked around at the other patrons who were now staring curiously in their direction, and realized that telling Kuvira about her meeting with Mako at Kuvira’s place of employment hadn’t been the wisest thing to do. “Kuvira, people are staring,” she whispered.

“So?” Kuvira dropped the cloth on the table and regarded the man seated closest to Korra. “If she were your girlfriend, would you cheat on her?”

Korra covered her face with one hand and sank lower into the chair.

“I’m gay.”

“Of course you are,” Kuvira replied. She looked around. “Any guy here not gay? Hell, any lesbians in the house?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Korra half-whispered, half-yelled through clenched teeth.

“I wouldn’t,” said a male voice. “She’s a fox.”

“There you go,” Kuvira said to Korra. “Proof that Mako is an idiot.”

Korra turned half way around to see what had to be a sixty year old man leering at her. “Ugh.” She turned back to Kuvira. “Look, I’m going back to the apartment. And, officially, I can never come back to visit you here again.”

Kuvira took Korra’s statement to mean that she should sit down. So she did. In a low voice, she said, “I know a couple of guys who could track Mako down and beat the crap out of him. What do you think?”

“I think I’m a little scared of you right now.”

Kuvira narrowed her eyes at nothing in particular. “I’m so glad you’re done with that bastard. And trust me, if I ever run into him, he’s going to be really sorry.”

Instead of replying, Korra ventured a smile. Ironically, Kuvira’s anger worked to soothe Korra’s pain. The walk from the park had been a dark, emotional event. She might have shed a tear or two, though she would never admit it. Mako deserved no tears. He hadn’t deserved them before his confession, and certainly not after. And after venting over an appropriately named Venti-sized caffeinated drink, she felt better. Not quite skip-all-the-way-home better, but better all the same. “I’ll see you at home later?”

“Oh you bet. I’m picking up movies, pizza, and more junk food than you have ever seen in your life. We’ll have a huge Gilmore Girls-type Friday night extravaganza. Lorelai would be proud.”

“Hardcore. Can’t wait.”

Once outside, Korra hailed a cab, a luxury she couldn’t quite afford but that felt necessary at that moment. If she walked, she would think, and she was tired of thinking. At least this way, her thinking time would be reduced dramatically. She wanted to focus, instead, on the positive. And once she figured out what the positive was, she’d give it her full attention.

“Nice night,” she said absently to the cab driver, hoping he’d hear her through the plastic divider between them. His reply came in the form of a grunt, and Korra gave up trying to decide if he was agreeing with her or not. She glanced out the window, at the City passing by in a blur of motion. It was a nice night, she decided, watching as familiar buildings grew closer and then vanished into the past.

Korra was relieved when the cab pulled up to her building. She’d kept a close eye on the meter, ready to yell, “pull over,” if the cost exceeded the amount of money she carried. As it happened, she had just enough.

“Have a good night,” she said politely, only to hear a dismissive grunt in reply. Perhaps she hadn’t tipped enough to warrant a full word.

The apartment was dark when Korra stepped inside, and she moved quickly to turn on the light. Listening, as she always did, for sounds that might give away an intruder. Hearing nothing, she wandered into her bedroom and closed the door.

The room smelled of cigarette smoke and stale cigars, neither of which were her doing. She lit an incense stick to cover the odors seeping in from other apartments and sat down at the edge of the bed. The mattress squeaked, and she moved to a spot that didn’t feel as lumpy as the rest.

In the corner, her easel stood buried beneath two shirts and a jacket. That is what her passion had become: a hamper. She thought of Sami and felt like a fraud. When was the last time she’d painted? It had been weeks.

This is not how it was supposed to be. She should’ve been standing over a canvas, paintbrush in hand, clothes covered in oil and paint; happy and alive, if slightly crazy from the paint fumes. She should not have been sitting in bed, sulking about a guy she wasn’t even in love with. Michelangelo wouldn’t have sulked. He would’ve hit a rock with a hammer and created a masterpiece or sat down to write a poem that encapsulated the very essence of love and passion. Then again, she was hardly Michelangelo and Mako was hardly Cavalieri, and neither relationship could be remotely compared to the other, so where she was headed with that train of thought was anybody’s guess.

Somewhere, the theme to Friends played and Korra listened to the muffled sounds of dialogue before moving to take the laptop out of its case. The computer, like most of Korra’s valuable belongings, was a gift from Mako. It was also the only gift that she would likely not be returning or giving away to Goodwill or burning in a fire of spiritual and emotional cleansing.

Her email loaded slower than usual, or so it seemed. She smiled, however, when the name Sami Taso appeared in the inbox. There were few things lately that Korra looked forward to; a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, the end of classes, the start of a fresh roll of toilet paper, and Sami’ emails.

She began to read, smiling at the words on the screen and forgetting for a moment that she didn’t know the girl at the other end of the screen. She hadn’t talked to Kuvira about Sami much, or at all since their discussion on Sami’ potential gender confusion. It seemed like an outlandish thing, to be communicating with a stranger via email.

She’d heard of people doing that before, but she’d never considered herself the type of person to fall victim to online friendships. Is that what this was? Friendship? She hardly knew anything about Sami as it was. What they shared was something in the category of Other; something still untitled.

Still, Sami made her smile, made her wish to know more about the woman behind the emails. How old was she? What did she look like? What did she like to do? Did she go to school? Did she have a job?

_ Dear Sami, _

_ I was sitting here thinking that I know so little about you. Perhaps that’s a good thing – I’m not sure what the usual protocol is for online communication. It’s new to me, this whole thing of emailing someone I don’t know. I was asleep while my entire generation jumped onto the Internet head first and began using chat rooms and forums to meet other people. _

_ I have always been old fashioned in that respect, I guess. Words on a screen never seemed like enough – but then, I’m an artist and all about the visual. Words and I have never been friends. In fact, I have to think really hard when I write to you, hoping I’m not sounding terribly idiotic and running everything though a spellchecker as I go so that I don’t end up sounding like a moron. I’ve not yet managed to figure out how to sound like ‘me’ when I write. Is there a way to sound like yourself in emails? I’m not sure. I just know I used the word ‘sound’ entirely too many times in that paragraph and though it seems fine to me, I think my Lit professor would frown deeply at this email. _

_ Usually I would just erase it or cheat by using a thesaurus but I’m not sure you care if I use the same word 800 times in one paragraph or if I forget a comma somewhere. You can tell me if you do care, of course, and I’ll just proceed to bang my head against an easel or something. _

_ It’s weird, isn’t it? That we started talking about love and relationships and I don’t even know how old you are or what you look like or even what your hobbies are. Maybe you’re used to this kind of exchange, so I apologize for being such a newbie. _

_ Regardless, I was hoping that you could tell me more about you. I’ll take anything, the most mundane details are accepted, as well as any quirks you wouldn’t normally admit to the general public. I suppose that’s one advantage to being relatively anonymous. _

_ I’m sorry if this email is excessively long or rambly (and unlike you, I do normally over-apologize, especially in situations where nothing is my fault). Today I had one of those days that I wish I could forget. I can’t forget it, of course, which is why I’m rambling to you. _

_ Rambling is so much easier than forgetting. _

_ Today my ex-boyfriend appeared out of the blue to tell me that he’d been dating someone else on the side and that he’d also slept with this girl while we were together. I know I should be angry, which I am. I told him I was relieved, and I am that, too. The weird thing is, I’m more angry at myself than at him. I’m angry that I let the relationship go on so long when I knew it wasn’t working. I hadn’t been in love with him for months... why didn’t I end it then? Why did I keep thinking something would change? _

_ He’s an asshole for cheating and lying, but I wasn’t a saint, either. I might not have physically cheated, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t muster enthusiasm for anything we did together anymore. When he slept over I’d end up sleeping on the couch just because I couldn’t sleep with him beside me. I began to get irritated by the mere thought of him. His phone calls grated on my nerves. I started to hate the sight of him chewing, the sound of his laugh, and the fact that he always smelled of cigarettes (no offense if you’re a smoker). _

_ None of these things add up to my being the kind of girlfriend he should’ve wanted to have, right? He couldn’t have been happy. No matter how much he claims to love me, I can’t begin to fathom what he saw in me. And I guess that whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. _

_ (Oh yeah, I’ve been also known to be self-deprecating. It comes with the territory of being a dark, brooding artist-type.) _

_ I just wish I didn’t feel so bitter about a relationship that had been doomed for ages. I blame the melancholy. You start thinking about how things were at the beginning, and how happy you were, and how in love you felt. You start to remember the things he used to do, and how they made you feel, and then the present comes tumbling down. Suddenly, you’re twenty-one years old, sitting in your bed, rambling to a stranger about a guy you used to love but don’t anymore, and you think, ‘Oh my God. This can’t possibly be my life.’ _

_ So there you have it. My current mental state. This email would be even better if I were drunk. _

_ But enough about me... _

_ So, you mentioned a blind date. I guess the question on my mind while reading your email was: what’s your type? I thought doctors were all the rage? What’s wrong with him? Too old? Too young? Too short? Too tall? _

_ Actually, if he’s a blind date... how do you know he’s not your type? _

_ Korra _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else wanna bop Mako on the head?


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The date had been going well, to Asami’s surprise. Nobu was neither boring nor self-absorbed, and Asami began to understand how one might end up in a relationship after all. If she had been even remotely interested in him physically, she might have agreed to a second date. And maybe a third, and then who knew? They might be picking china patterns by the end of the year.

“I need to apologize to you, Asami,” Nobu said, looking uncomfortable for the first time all evening. His brown eyes darted around the restaurant nervously, and Asami began to wonder if she’d been wrong about him all along. Perhaps he was a con-artist, or a Pap in disguise. Perhaps the real Nobu Nakamura was tied up and gagged in the trunk of a car somewhere.

Asami put down her glass of Château Margaux and regarded her date, with what she hoped was a curious-but-not-panicked expression.

“I know that our mothers set this up, and I’m truly honored that you’d even want to go on a date with me, considering who you are and everything. And I realize this must make me an idiot in about thirty different countries. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be dating Asami Sato, right?” He reached for his drink and finished it before continuing. “It’s mainly that... my last relationship... she and I were very serious and I... I’m not quite over her yet. God knows I should be. I mean, she broke my heart in every way imaginable. I’m just... not.” He breathed, meeting her gaze. “I wanted to tell you that because you’re so lovely and I feel horrible agreeing to this date when I knew I wasn’t over Angelica yet.”

Asami relaxed and offered him a sympathetic smile. To say she was relieved was an understatement. “I understand completely,” she said, and was pleased when he returned her smile. “Why don’t we just enjoy the rest of the dinner and then at least we can tell our respective mothers that we made it through the evening without embarrassing either of our family names. That’s all they really care about anyway.”

Nobu laughed. “Isn’t that the truth?” He studied her suddenly and looked pensive for a moment. “Forgive me for asking, but, why are you single? I can’t imagine there’s a shortage of men wanting to take you out to dinner.”

Asami lowered her gaze, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny; as though he might be able to guess what it was just by looking at her. “I guess I’m just picky.”

He nodded, as if she’d said something wise. “That’s good. Don’t settle. I dated so many women. Family-approved women, of course. I was pretty certain at least one of those Stanford girls would turn out to be the One. Didn’t happen. Then I started working and you know, crazy hospital hours didn’t leave me much of a social life. And one day, after I’d given up on ever meeting anyone at all, there she was: Angelica. The maid’s daughter. It was a disaster from the beginning.” He shook his head sadly, and shrugged. “But you can’t help who you love, right?”

***

Her cell phone chimed the second Asami stepped into her house, and an image of Opal hiding out in the bushes outside crossed through her mind before she answered. “You have impeccable timing. Are you stalking me?”

“Always,” came Opal’s voice. “Your paychecks have funded my entire arsenal of tools. Night vision goggles, binoculars, the works. I heard some college kids came up with a type of camouflage suit. I’m putting in a pre-order.”

Asami took off her heels and carried them the rest of the way to her bedroom. Her feet ached and she was anxious to change into something comfortable. “I guess that means I don’t need to fill you in on the details of my date tonight since I’m sure you have video footage already. Let me know when it’s up on YouTube.”

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Opal noted. “It couldn’t have been a total disaster.”

Asami sat down on the bed and rubbed her feet. “It wasn’t, actually. It was quite nice, in fact.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re thinking of dating him?”

Asami rolled her eyes. “Yes. One evening with a man I could talk to and suddenly I realized I’d been wrong all along. I’m cured! Bring on the men.”

There was a pause before Opal said, “I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’ll work on my punch line for next time. Anyway, the date went fine. We ate, we talked, he told me all about the woman he’s in love with, I listened. He paid the check. He opened the door for me. And then he drove me home.”

Opal laughed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“So he’s in love with someone else?”

“Yes. Angelica. She sounds like a nice girl. Smart, too. Did you know she was the Valedictorian at her high school? She even got a scholarship to Yale but her father got sick so she had to stay around here and help out the family.”

“Wow, he really did tell you about her.”

“Oh yeah. I even saw baby pictures. He’s got it bad. Poor guy. He was really nice. If I’d been straight, or even bisexual, I’d have definitely been upset that his heart is taken.”

“Well it all worked out for the best then.”

“Absolutely. It’s over and done with, and that’s the last time I agree to a blind date.” She reached over to turn on the lamp on her nightstand. “So, was that the reason you were calling? To find out about the date?”

“Partly. I wanted to tell you I finished reading the script.”

Asami switched the phone to the other ear. “Oh yeah? What did you think? Be honest.”

“Honestly? Honestly, I think it’s great, Asami. I think that if you turn down this role, you’re going to regret it somewhere down the road. You’ve wanted a part like this for as long as I’ve known you...”

“I have.”

“And this character, Elizabeth... I can’t imagine anyone else playing her. This could very well be a once-in- a-lifetime opportunity. Why dismiss it on account of your personal life? It’s just acting, right?”

Just acting, Asami thought. Right. “I have that meeting with the director tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah that was the other reason I was calling, to remind you. I emailed you the details and the directions to the restaurant. Brunch is okay, right? She suggested brunch and I figured you wouldn’t care.”

“Brunch is fine. Thanks, Opal.”

“My pleasure. I also attached a picture of her I found online so you would recognize her easier. I assume she knows what you look like, but just in case.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know. So, listen, guess who called me today?”

“The Pope?”

“Bolin.”

Asami smiled. “And?”

“We had a really, really long talk. I’m talking long. He yelled. I yelled. I hung up on him. He hung up on me. We took turns calling the other back. It was quite dramatic, but I think we’re going to be all right. I think as long as I manage to keep my exes away from him, things should return to normal.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m glad you guys managed to work things out.”

“Thanks for calling him an idiot and telling him to call. Sometimes he needs to hear it.”

“Oh don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time I’ve called him an idiot, and it likely won’t be the last.”

Opal snorted. “I believe it. Listen, we also discussed your very cryptic phone call about the homophobic artist in New York. Any chance you’ll illuminate us with the details sometime soon?”

“Are you saying you didn’t believe I was writing a story?”

“Well ... I’d say yes, but I’d be lying.”

“Great.”

“So?”

“What so?”

“Who is she?”

“She who?”

“The artist?”

“What artist?”

“Asami!”

Asami smiled into the phone. “You’re the stalker. Figure it out.”

“We’ll break you down eventually. You can’t hide – Oh my God!”

“What?”

“It’s the artist! The one who made that painting that you had me cart all over Los Angeles. What did you do? Did you call her?”

Asami had forgotten how it easy it was to piece it all together. She should’ve never made those phone calls. “I didn’t call her,” she said impatiently. “And don’t go blowing things out of proportion. It’s nothing. I just emailed her to say that I liked her painting. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Opal sounded doubtful and Asami didn’t like it.

“Yes that’s all! What else would it be?”

“I don’t know. Why did you want to know if she’s homophobic?”

Asami sighed, a headache beginning to pound at her temples. “I was just wondering. I don’t know. It wasn’t for any particular reason.”

“Does she know who you are?”

“No.”

“You didn’t tell her it was you?”

“No!”

“So... what, she thinks you’re ... who?”

“Sami.”

“Sami who?”

“Just Sami.”

“And she didn’t think it was odd when your email came through as Asami Sato?”

Asami hesitated.

Opal started to giggle. “Oh no. You just made up a new address?”

Was her assistant psychic? She was unnerved by the conversation. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s nothing. And talking about it makes it seem like something, and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t tell Bolin.”

“Oh, c’mon. This is too good not to discuss.”

“Opal!”

“Ooh, I’ve got another call. Probably Bolin. Talk to you tomorrow. Enjoy your brunch!”

“Opal!” The phone went dead and Asami’s shoulders slumped. So much for keeping this a secret. Her own fault. She should’ve known calling them would arouse suspicion. They were nothing if not nosy.

Resigned, she dropped the phone on the bed and headed into the closet to change.

Tomorrow was another day, and she had important decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I might upload chapter 18 tonight too. I’m feeling nice :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Decisions sometimes came in bulk, Asami learned the following morning as she read over Korra’s last email. She felt a mix of emotions as she read: panic at the thought that Korra wanted to know more about her, as well as an odd sense of flattery over the same; anger at Korra’s boyfriend for cheating; sadness that Korra blamed, in some part, herself; and other things that she didn’t have a name for.

She sat back on her chair, sipping soda that doubled as her breakfast, and contemplating her options. Not writing back would be insensitive, Asami recognized, though writing back could only lead to a myriad of complications. Complications which she had foreseen, but chosen to ignore. She should’ve ended things at the beginning, or better yet, not started things at all.

Now she was stuck. Stuck between wanting to be honest, and not knowing how.

She sighed, placing the can on the desk and hitting the reply icon on the screen.

To: Korra 

From: Sami Taso

Subject: Re: Your Art

_Dear Korra,_

Asami waited for the right words to come to mind. When they didn’t, she removed her fingers from the keyboard and looked around her room. Her gaze landed on the time and she leaned back, letting the chair swing back and forth. She had three hours to write back to Korra, shower, get dressed, and get to her scheduled brunch date with Taylor Rose.

Why writing back to Korra rated first on her list of things to do, she wasn’t sure. Something told her that if she didn’t write back before she left, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else. That fact danced along the edges of her mind, inching toward a mild sort of worry.

The cursor on the screen ticked away the seconds, and Asami straightened up.

_Dear Korra,_

_I’m also a novice at this communicating-through-email thing, so I wouldn’t worry too much about the protocol. I’m perfectly happy playing it by ear. To be honest, I didn’t expect our virtual interaction to last more than an email or two. I’m not known for trying to befriend strangers out of the blue._

_I’m sorry about how things turned out with you and your ex-boyfriend. I know you feel somewhat responsible for the outcome, but I still think it was a shitty thing he did. He could’ve told you if he was unhappy. But it’s not really my place to comment one way or the other. Regardless, I hope that you find happiness, or at least the path back to your art. I think perhaps the latter would lead to the former..._

_Anyway, about me. Let’s see. It’s an odd thing to summarize oneself. Where do you begin?_

_You asked about my age, so I guess I’ll start there: I’m twenty-five. My hobbies... hm. I read a lot. I like to cook (contemplated culinary school for a while, actually). I ride motorcycles when I have the time. I don’t have any odd hobbies or special skills. I don’t collect things or fly model airplanes in my spare time or anything of the sort. I guess that makes me pretty boring (or just normal, depending on your world view – which in mine kind of amounts to the same thing)._

_I guess that’s all pretty common and maybe doesn’t paint a very good picture of who I am._

_Honestly, I’m not entirely sure who I am. I like to think I do, or pretend that I do, but I don’t. Not really. Maybe that’s why I chose acting as a career._

Asami frowned thoughtfully, debating whether or not to leave the last paragraph in. She didn’t want to lie, but it didn’t mean she had to put the whole truth on a silver platter for Korra to dissect.

Not yet, anyway.

She highlighted the last paragraph, and clicked the backspace key. Then she rolled her eyes. “I sound so lame.”

She ran a hand through her hair in frustration and let out a deep breath. She glanced out, through the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony, out to the ocean beyond. After a couple of minutes, she turned back to the computer.

_What about you? It’s probably natural for people to assume that art is your hobby, but I bet, to you, it’s everything but._

_Anyway, moving on. My blind date actually turned out to be better than I expected. He was kind, funny, good-looking, and in love with someone else. I know you asked how I knew he wasn’t my type before I met him, and the truth is that the fact that it was a ‘him’ kind of gave it away._

Asami stared at the screen, knowing she should delete what she’d written, but not really wanting to. If Korra were ever to discover who she really was, these emails could serve as evidence. Copies would circulate the Internet, get plastered on magazines, and come back to bite her in the ass. If this ever got out, the media would have a field day. “And it would be great publicity, I just bet,” she muttered.

She tapped her fingers on the keyboard. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Asami?”

Shaking her head, she continued to type.

_Consider yourself person number three on the list of people in this world who know that about me. I guess anonymity does go a long way toward aiding honesty along._

_Anyway, I hope you’re doing well._

_Until soon,_

_Sami_

She sent the email without reading over it, knowing she would delete everything if she got a second chance. “She’s going to think I’m a creepy stalker-type,” Asami mumbled as she rose from her desk. “With a mullet.”

***

Rain fell hard against the window, drops breaking into smaller versions of themselves then sliding down in zig-zag patterns only to gather on the sill. Korra crossed her arms against her chest and sighed. A perfectly good day, ruined. “I hate it when it rains on days I want to sell my art.”

Kuvira snorted from the couch. She’d borrowed Korra’s laptop and was gazing intently into the screen. Without looking up, she said, “It’s getting too cold out, anyway. Fewer people stopping to look. Maybe you should look into displaying it somewhere else. Preferably indoors.”

Korra turned away from the window and walked toward her friend. “There’s a big student art exhibit coming up,” she said, sitting beside Kuvira. “Only two students per class get picked, though.” She shrugged. “Odds aren’t good.”

“See, that’s your problem.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have no confidence. You want something, you need to go after it. Even if it means stretching your comfort zone a little. Who picks the students?”

Korra hesitated only briefly before saying, “Professor Tenzin.”

“And have you ever spoken to this Professor Tenzin outside of class?”

Korra frowned. “No. I have a class right after his. I usually have to rush out to get there in time.”

“And this next class is an art class?”

“No... Lit.”

Kuvira sighed and put the laptop on the coffee table. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Korra settled back on the couch. “No...”

“Priorities, Korra. If you want your stuff at that exhibit, you need to go the extra mile. Your talent only goes so far, I’m sorry to say. Sometimes the artist needs to speak louder than the canvas.”

Korra shifted uncomfortably. “So you want me to... what? Just go up to him? Strike up a conversation?”

“You’re his student. Certainly you have questions you want answered. Or deep, philosophical observations about whatever kind of art he likes most in all the world. Just make yourself noticed. If he remembers your face and your name, he might take a closer look at your art.” Kuvira shrugged. “All the same, you might still not get chosen, but it’s something. If not this, maybe he’ll pick you for something else. You never know.”

Korra imagined herself going up to Professor Tenzin after class and starting a conversation about Surrealism and André Breton, about art as a revolutionary movement. Wouldn’t he see through that? Wouldn’t he dismiss her as just another student wanting to make the grade? If her art was worth it, wouldn’t it get noticed on its own? “I’ll think about it,” is what she said to Kuvira, in an effort to drop the subject. “What are you up to?”

Kuvira retrieved the laptop again and pointed at the screen. “Checking out open call auditions. I really need to get myself an agent. But some of these look promising. Want to come along? There’s one in a couple of hours.”

Korra glanced at the window and the rain still coming down strong. “I think I’ll stay in dry land today.”

“Suit yourself.” Kuvira handed the laptop over to Korra. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. I saw you twitching earlier. Do I need to send you to Webaholics Anonymous?”

Korra took the object and settled it on her lap. “It’s not that. It’s just ...” She stopped short, thinking it a weird thing to admit.

“It’s just...?”

Korra shrugged, hoping it didn’t sound like a big deal. “I emailed Sami a couple of days ago and I was hoping she’d write back today.”

Kuvira nodded, looking perplexed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I never figured you for the obsessive pen pal type.”

Korra frowned. “I’m not obsessive.”

“Mmm, whatever you say, Twitchy.” She nodded at the laptop. “So, go ahead. Check if she wrote you.” 

Korra felt uncomfortable checking her email with Kuvira looking over her shoulder. Her interactions with Sami had always felt like a private matter. Something that wasn’t meant to be shared. Hurting Kuvira’s feelings, however, was out of the question, so, hesitantly, Korra moved the cursor around until the mail client popped up.

Mail loaded on the screen, a virtual cocktail of junk mail, store sales, and more junk. Korra was both relieved and disappointed by the absence of Sami’s name.

“Guess she’s busy,” Kuvira said, moving away from Korra. “Speaking of busy, you want to go out tonight? Hit a bar, watch me get drunk and flirt with random people?”

Korra was about to decline when movement on the screen caught her eye. The name Sami Taso appeared in her inbox, and suddenly, her spirits lifted. Korra closed the laptop and turned to Kuvira. “Um, sure. Yeah. If the rain stops. I hate getting wet.”

Kuvira sat back, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, the feel of wet clothes is—“

“I meant about going out tonight?”

“Oh.” Korra nodded, not really thinking about it. “It’s Saturday. And I’m single, right? I should have a little fun.”

Kuvira grinned. “I’m going to hold you to that. No excuses.”

“Except for the rain.”

“What if it’s just a drizzle?”

“We’ll see,” Korra said, smiling at her friend’s enthusiasm. “Don’t you have an audition to get ready for?”

Kuvira nodded and stood, then paused, looking thoughtful. “Did you ever stop to think that this Sami person could be a forty-year-old, creepy, child molester named Long Feng or something? Cause I was thinking, it could also be a serial killer. You know, he pays clean-cut guys some money to purchase street art, gives them extra to flirt with the salesperson and get their business card, then uses that information to get close to the artist. Pretends to be a fan. Lowers the creep factor by claiming to be female. Gets private information. Then bam! Shows up at your door one day as a surprise, and boom. You wake up to find yourself tied up and hypnotized at some old warehouse .”

Korra blinked at Kuvira. “Entirely too much TV for you.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kuvira said, walking away. “I just hope the Medium lady has a dream about you before it happens and comes to warn you. ‘Cause unless this has happened many times before and they’re on the case, the Bones people and the SVU people will get there entirely too late. And I’ll be forced to say, ‘I tried to warn her, officers.’.”

***

Asami arrived fashionably late to the brunch meeting, and thanks to Opal’s quick thinking, recognized the director without trouble. Initially, she’d thought the photo Opal had sent her was old, but standing face-to-face with Taylor Rose, Asami realized the director was simply young. Pretty, too, she thought, but didn’t dwell, putting on her poker face and shaking hands before sitting down at the table.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Asami began, though she really wasn’t. When it came to business, she never waited for other people. She felt it gave her a disadvantage.

Taylor Rose smiled easily, showing straight white teeth. Her blue eyes contemplated Asami briefly. “I’m really glad you agreed to meet with me today, Ms. Sato. Your assistant made it clear you were pretty busy these days.”

Asami reached for a glass of water. “My agent told me you really wanted me for this part.”

“I wrote it for you,” Taylor admitted. “With you in mind, anyway. Naturally, if you decline I’ll have to find someone else, but I’d rather it didn’t come to that.” She opened the menu. “Do you know what’s good here?”

Asami was momentarily distracted by the way the director’s brown hair fell across her face. “Uh,” she opened her own menu, feeling flustered. “I’ve never been here, actually. I thought you were recommending it.”

“The hotel manager I spoke to suggested it, actually,” Taylor said. “I asked him what the best place to convince a high profile actress to star in my movie would be and he pointed me to this.” She looked around. “How is it making you feel? Like you want to give in?”

Asami couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe after some scrambled eggs.”

“Excellent.” Taylor met her gaze for a moment. “Look, Ms. Sato—“

“Asami.”

“Asami,” Taylor repeated as if trying it out. “I’m sure you have plenty of other, better offers on the table right now. My movie is small, it’s got a respectable budget but probably not what you’re used to. I was told it was a long shot getting you to star in this, but I’m nothing if not stubborn. What will it take for you to say yes?”

Asami considered the director’s words. She had been thinking about this role for weeks. She had re-read the script so many times she practically had it memorized already. And still, until that moment, she hadn’t made her final decision. It wasn’t until meeting the director that Asami realized something she hadn’t considered before: it could be fun.

She could tell by the director’s eyes that Taylor Rose thought the issue was money. The thought almost made Asami smile. “Out of curiosity, how much of your budget has been put aside for my salary?”

Taylor looked surprised by the question. “We’re prepared to offer you the usual sum. Is it not sufficient?”

“May I take your orders?” the waitress interrupted.

Asami relaxed, glancing briefly at the menu before placing her order. Taylor followed her lead and before long, they were alone again.

“Tell you what,” Asami said. “Take whatever you were going to spend on me, divide it by four, and pay me that instead.”

Taylor stared at her, suddenly at a loss. “I’m sorry, I don’t...”

“I’ll take the role,” Asami said, knowing, as she said it, that it was the right thing to do. “But I don’t want that much money. To be honest, I don’t need it. I’ve not yet developed a drug addiction so I can spare the change.” She smiled at the look on Taylor’s face. “You were right, this place is very persuasive.”

Slowly, Taylor began to smile. “Well. Maybe I’ll bring my mother here sometime.”

“Are you trying to get her to star in a movie, too?”

Taylor laughed. “Not quite. Though if I were to film a current rendition of Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot she’d be the perfect candidate for the role of Tutti.”

Asami grinned, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. She’d expected the decision to weigh on her, and instead, she felt light. It had been the right choice. Whatever happened from here on out, whatever the consequences, she’d deal with them.

She thought of Korra and the email she’d sent earlier in the day. She’d have to deal with those consequences, too.

Whenever they came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a slow burn, but I promise it’ll be worth it :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

When Kuvira came back from her audition, Korra was finishing her email to Sami. Either she’d been typing for longer than she’d thought, or Kuvira’s audition had ended early. She kept her gaze on the screen until the email disappeared from her Outbox. Then she slammed close the laptop and turned halfway around to look into the kitchen.

Kuvira was staring into the refrigerator. “We seriously need to go shopping. All we have is left over Chinese from who knows how long ago and beer.” She pulled out a bottle of beer and closed the door.

“That was a fast audition.”

Kuvira uncapped the beer and tossed the cap into the trash, then walked over. “It was a nightmare.”

“The boring kind of nightmare, or the interesting, let-me-make-some-popcorn kind?”

Kuvira took a long sip and plopped down beside Korra. “Definitely the popcorn kind.” Then she smiled. “If we had any.”

“I’ll settle for the story then.” She made herself comfortable. “Shoot.” 

“Well. Let’s see. First, it took me forever just to find the building because nobody knew of Clairmont Theater and even though I had the address I kept missing the place because I didn’t realize I was actually looking for an apartment building.”

“Okay...”

“And not even a fancy one. No. That apartment building makes ours look luxurious. Anyway, I walked into ‘Clairmont Theater’, went up to the third floor, as per the instructions, and knocked on door 312. By that point, I was starting to get the idea that this was not quite what I was hoping for. But, I figured, an audition is an audition. So, I knocked and waited. And waited. Finally, the door opened and suddenly there was a man standing there wearing... cut-off shorts.”

Korra held back a laugh. “Just cut-offs?”

“Just cut-offs. He was holding a can of beer in one hand, and looking me up and down like I was the stripper he’d sent for.”

She laughed then. “That’s insane. What’d you do?”

“Well... he asked me if I was there for the audition. At first I thought of saying I had the wrong door, cause seriously... “ She laughed. “...but then I said yeah, and he invited me in. At that point, I started digging into my bag for mace, just in case. Anyway, I followed him into this tiny little living room only to find... a really hot naked guy.”

“What?”

“Totally naked. Totally hot. Long story short, it was an audition for a porno.”

Korra blinked. “Okay. Please tell me that you didn’t actually participate in...”

Kuvira snorted. “Of course not, Korra. I am a serious actress. I got into Juilliard. I have talent coming out of my ass. And if my entire life hadn’t fallen into chaos... well... I’d be in a much better place career-wise right now. But no. I’m answering calls for porn videos instead.”

Korra touched Kuvira’s arm lightly.

Kuvira took a deep breath and smiled. “The good news is, I got that guy’s number.”

Korra dropped her arm. “The one in the cut-offs?”

“Ha! No, no... the naked one.”

“You’re going to date a porn star?”

“Hell no.” Kuvira laughed and put the bottle of beer on the coffee table. “I could never date a guy who sleeps with women for a living. I’m just going to have sex with him next Friday. Then I can cross ‘sleep with a porn star’ off my life’s to-do list.” She stopped to consider. “Although, I don’t even know if this guy’s big enough.”

Korra arched an eyebrow. “Okay, is this going where I think it’s going? Cause ew.”

Kuvira looked confused, then as comprehension dawned on her, she grinned. “Oh! No. Trust me, he’s big enough.” Kuvira chuckled. “I meant, a big enough star. I don’t know crap about porn. What if he’s a nobody. I mean, it’s one thing to sleep with a porn star, but... what if he’s not a star. He’s just a... porn... guy.” She thought about it. “Then again, he could always become a star later, and I would’ve missed my chance to say, ‘Hey I know that penis from somewhere.’”

Korra cleared her throat and grabbed Kuvira’s beer, then drank down the rest of it.

Kuvira grinned. “I love making you blush. It’s almost too easy.” She pointed to the laptop. “So, did the serial killer ever write you back?”

“Yes, and I told her to come over and bring her sharpest knife.”

“Your idea of cyber sex is decidedly twisted. Just make sure I’m outta here, I don’t want to be caught in the middle of this sordid mess.”

“Duly noted.”

“But seriously, she wrote back? Anything new? Anything interesting? I’m allowed to ask about your new friend, right?”

Korra smiled. “Of course. Um...” She tried to think of something in Sami’ email that might seem like shareable information. Nothing really popped out. “Um... well, she went on a blind date.” 

“Really? How did it go? Total disaster?”

“Actually, she said it went well. He just... wasn’t her type.”

Kuvira nodded. “Too bad. Did she say what was wrong with him? Bad hair? Bad teeth? Ooh! I went out with this guy once, he was super nice, but the way he chewed...” Kuvira made a face.

“Um.” Korra hesitated. Sami had said not many people knew about her being gay, but... would she really care if her roommate knew? It’s not like they knew each other. Still, it felt wrong to betray Sami’s confidence. “She didn’t really say.”

“Oh.” Kuvira glanced at Korra for a moment, studying her face as if trying to read her thoughts. “You just don’t want to tell me. It’s cool. She told you things in confidence. I get it.”

Korra felt incredibly awkward. On the one hand, she didn’t want to talk about the things Sami had privately shared with her. On the other, Kuvira was her best friend. If the roles were reversed, Kuvira would have told her. Not because Kuvira was a gossip queen, but because that’s what best friends do. They share. “She’s gay.”

Kuvira smiled. “You didn’t have to tell me that just because you felt guilty.”

“I didn’t.” It wasn’t really a lie, was it? “Anyway, there you go. The reason he wasn’t her type.”

Kuvira considered it. “Well, as far as reasons go, that’s a good one.” She stood. “Anyway, I’m going to go get changed. We’re still on for the bar tonight, yes?”

“Absolutely. I’ll just watch TV while you get ready.”

Kuvira halted in her steps. “Wait, you’re not wearing that are you?”

Korra glanced down at her NYU t-shirt and jeans. “I was planning to... why?”

Kuvira grabbed Korra by the hands and pulled her up. “Let’s go raid my closet. We’re going out together, and we’re both going to look fabulous.”

Korra allowed herself to be pulled.

***

“Asami,” Bolin said, as he swallowed, “this is so delicious.”

“I’m having an orgasm in my mouth,” Opal said, by way of agreement.

Asami smiled and poured everyone more wine. “I appreciate the flattery.”

Opal reached for her glass and turned to Asami. “So, when are you going to tell us about your meeting with the director? Are you doing the movie, are you not?”

“Is it true she’s hot?”

Asami stared at Bolin, then at Opal. “You don’t mind him asking that?”

Opal shook her head. “Who do you think told him she was hot?”

Bolin nodded. “And see? I didn’t throw a tantrum. I am above that now. Dr. Petrie’s helping me manage my insecurities. Turns out, it’s all my mother’s fault.”

Asami cast a questioning look at Opal, who shrugged and said, “His new shrink.”

“What happened to the old one?”

Bolin finished chewing. “Oh... he knew way too much about me. I had to cut him loose.”

“Oh, sure.” Asami turned back to her meal.

Bolin and Opal exchanged glances.

Then Bolin spoke again. “So... the director? The movie?”

Asami took her time with the bite of food in her mouth, then followed it with some wine.

Both Bolin and Opal were staring at her expectantly and it amused her. “I took the role.”

Opal let out a shriek that sounded nothing like a human sound. “That’s awesome!” She clapped and held up her glass. “A toast. To Asami getting it on with another hot chick, and everyone getting to watch.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Bolin grinned and clinked his glass with Opal’s.

Asami simply shook her head, and continued eating.“And the director?”

Asami let the question hang in the air, while the sound of waves crashed in the distance.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun during a meeting with a director. Normally, she would’ve been in and out as fast as she could, but with Taylor ... she’d found herself stalling. Remembering the question left unanswered on the dinner table, she shrugged and gently stabbed a piece of broccoli on her plate. “She was... interesting.”

Opal and Bolin looked at each other, but didn’t say anything.

Their silence unnerved Asami more than anything they could’ve said. “What?” she asked, finally.

It was Opal who spoke first. “I don’t think we’ve ever heard you describe anyone as... ‘interesting.’”

“What are you talking about? There’s tons of people I find interesting.”

“Name one,” Bolin said.

Korra. The name popped into her mind as easily as if someone had whispered it in her ear. Asami cleared her throat and pretended to be thinking. “Um.”

Opal took that to mean defeat. “Exactly. Pretty soon she’ll be moving in here, and your publicist will be putting out lesbian scandal fires left and right.” She sighed, smiling dreamily. “I can’t wait.”

Asami rolled her eyes. The mere thought of a lesbian scandal with her name on it was enough to give her nightmares. “Look, she was an undeniably attractive woman, sure. But, to think that anything more could come of that is ridiculous. For one... she’s probably not even interested in women.”

“Oh, she is,” Opal said assertively. “One hundred percent.”

Asami froze. “What?”

“Taylor Rose? She’s been out for years. Quietly so, sure, but definitely out. I learned all about her while I was looking for her picture.” Opal smiled innocently. “Would you like to know?”

Asami frowned. “No.” She tried to concentrate on her meal but her curiosity got the better of her. “Okay, fine. Just a very abridged version.”

“She was married,” Opal said, sitting up, and when Asami looked at her, she smiled brightly. “She married a really rich guy from New York. He was gayer than sin, but trying to hide it. I guess it was a mutual arrangement cause from what I’ve read, so’s she. Taylor was seriously involved in theater back in New York. She started out as an actress, and was pretty big in some circles, but then she started directing and that seemed to stick.”

Asami leaned forward. “I don’t think I’d ever heard of her before.”

“Hollywood brat,” Bolin said.

Asami stuck out her tongue.

Opal shook her head at their antics. “Anyway, her husband died. He left her everything. The guy had some serious assets. She took over his estate, his theater company, you name it. One thing led to another, and she got into film. And that brings her to now. But more to the point, there’s pictures all over the web of her and other women, and interviews with her not really denying these relationships. Oh and also, I found her MySpace and she put ‘lesbian’ under sexual orientation. And, best of all, she’s single.”

Asami absorbed the barrage of information and took another sip of wine. “I’ll keep that under consideration for when I turn into someone that actually asks women out.”

“She’s hot, and available, and according to you, ‘interesting’. What more do you want?”

Asami rolled her eyes, feeling uncomfortable and on the spot. Just because Taylor was interested in women didn’t mean she was interested in Asami. The thought was ludicrous. Besides, it’s not like Asami was interested either. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

Bolin nodded. “I agree. We’ve tortured you long enough about the director.”

Asami stopped chewing and arched a brow in his direction.

“Oh, absolutely,” Opal agreed, in an overly enthusiastic tone that spelled nothing but trouble.

Asami sat back and waited.

“Tell us about the artist.” Bolin grinned.

***

Korra focused on peeling the label off the bottle of beer she’d been nursing for over an hour.

Occasionally, the sound of drunken laughter would cause her to look up and around the crowded bar. They’d been lucky to nab a table just as they’d walked in. Outside, a line was forming.

Kuvira had left the table twenty or so minutes before, having spotted a guy she’d allegedly been cruising for weeks. Korra strongly suspected that by ‘weeks’ Kuvira meant ‘minutes’ but Korra hadn’t said anything. Every once in a while, she’d catch Kuvira watching the door and looking at her watch as if she was waiting for someone. It seemed like an odd thing to do while in the presence of Mr. Right Now, but Korra had given up long ago trying to understand Kuvira. It was best to just go with the flow.

She finished peeling off the label and took of a sip of the now warm beer as her gaze trailed across the room. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, and she wondered why she felt incapable of doing the same. Why couldn’t she, for example, spot a good-looking guy and go over there, say hi, introduce herself? Why did she feel rooted to her chair, married to a crappy-tasting drink, waiting for her best friend to finish having a good time and return to her?

Korra took another sip and slouched down. When she got home, she’d write to Sami again and ask her if there was a cure for loserness. The thought made her smile briefly, only long enough to feel self-conscious about smiling at a bottle of beer. Her thoughts wandered to the email she’d sent earlier. Had Sami read it? Had she replied? Something to look forward to once she got through the tedium of the evening.

She was about to drink again, when a voice stopped her.

“Korra, right?”

Korra looked up to see a guy standing in front of her. He was smiling down at her as if they were long lost friends at last reunited. She sat up straighter. “Uh, that’s me.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, and took a seat across from her. He shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall over the back of the chair. “I hope you weren’t waiting long. I got stuck in that stupid line outside. Did you know this place got so crowded? I had no idea.”

Korra merely blinked at him, trying to figure out how to tell him that he had the wrong person. She searched the room for Kuvira, and their eyes met. With a sinking feeling, Korra realized that this guy didn’t have the wrong person at all. This was a set up.

From across the bar, Kuvira gave her two thumbs up and a big smile. In return, Korra sent her what she hoped was a poisonous glare. It only caused Kuvira to smile brighter.

Reluctantly, she dragged her attention back to... Hell, she didn’t even know his name. She looked at him, having already forgotten everything he’d said to her and having nothing to say as a result. “Look, um, I don’t know what Kuvira said to drag you over here, but whatever it was, it’s not true.”

He frowned. “It’s not?”

“I don’t think so, no. I’m not into kinky threesomes. I don’t like to be spanked. If you try to tie me up I will scream bloody murder. I didn’t star in a porno when I was fifteen. I don’t have a French maid costume...” She paused and looked at him. “Any of those come close to what she’s told you?”

He was grinning at her. “She said you had recently gone through a break up, and weren’t ready for anything serious.”

It was Korra’s turn to frown. “Oh.”

“So it’s not true?”

“No... no, that sounds about right.”

He studied her face for half a second. “You had no idea I was coming, did you?”

“Not a clue.” 

“Adam,” he said suddenly, stretching out his hand. “Adam Foster.”

She shook it and let it go. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Is it?”

“So far I don’t hate you, so sure.”

He smiled at that. “I’ve seen you around, at school.”

Something clicked in the back of Korra’s mind. “Wait, are you the sculptor that goes to NYU?”

“That’d be me.”

Korra nodded. “Kuvira did mention you.” She recalled Kuvira mentioning his eyes. Even in the darkness of the bar, she could tell they were a beautiful shade of brown. She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Adam, you seem very nice and everything, it’s just... while I’m not looking for anything serious, I’m not really looking for anything casual, either.”

To her surprise, he simply offered a lopsided grin. “Yeah, Kuvira warned me that you might say that, but told me I was welcome to try anyway.” He smiled. “You seemed like the type that would be worth the try.” He held up his hand to stop her from saying anything. “Don’t comment. I wasn’t trying to charm you or flatter you. It’s just the truth.” He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “Look, I get that you’re not ready for anything. And I’d say ‘let’s be friends’ but I’m not going to presume that you’d even want to be my friend. That, and I think you know I’m attracted to you. So...” He handed her a business card. “...if you are ever ready for something casual, or something more than casual, or anything at all, please give me a call. I promise not to stalk you in the mean time.”

Korra took the card, feeling momentarily speechless. “Okay,” was all she managed.

He stood, grabbing his jacket in the process. “It was really nice meeting you, Korra. I’m sorry if this was at all awkward for you. I really thought Kuvira would have told you.”

“It was fine.” Korra found that she meant it, despite her initial reaction. “If I run into you, I promise I’ll say hi.”

“Cool. Beautiful girls noticing me is never a bad thing.” He smiled again, and then walked away.

She watched him leave. When she turned back, she was startled to find that Kuvira was seated in front of her.

“So?” Kuvira said. “Isn’t he great?”

“He was fine. We talked for five minutes. Five minutes does not a great person make. And what the hell were you thinking not telling me about this?”

“Would you have agreed to it if I had?”

“Of course not!”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Ugh.” Korra looked at the card in her hand and then put it in her pocket.

“So what’d you tell him?”

“I told him I don’t do threesomes, S&M, or French maid costumes, and that I’m not ready for anything with anyone.”

Kuvira shook her head. “You really know how to cover all your bases.”

“Years of practice. Can we go home now?”

Kuvira looked around and shrugged. “Yeah, we might as well. There are absolutely no hotties in this joint.”

“What about the one you’d been ‘cruising for weeks’?”

“Who? Oh... him? He’s got horrible breath. No way am I kissing him. Officially, the cruising is over.”

“Well, there’s always the porn star.”

“Amen to that.” 

***

Asami stood on the balcony several hours after Opal and Bolin had parted. It was after midnight, perhaps even after one. She had officially lost track of time.

They had asked her about the artist, and Asami hadn’t known what to say. She didn’t know much about Korra and the things she did know didn’t seem at all like things to be discussed with others over dinner. She didn’t tell them that earlier in the day she’d told Korra, a perfect stranger, what she’d swore to herself she’d never tell anyone else after Opal. She didn’t tell them that all day she had been avoiding her computer for fear that Korra might want nothing to do with her after knowing the truth. She feared an empty inbox as much as a full one and she didn’t know what that meant.

She swirled the glass of wine in her hand, staring at the amber liquid as it spun gently against the sides. She’d thought the extra alcohol would give her the courage she needed to face her fears, but it hadn’t. So far, her computer remained off, and she hadn’t gotten any closer to turning it on.

The thought of Korra no longer writing to her should’ve been a relief. An easy out that Asami wouldn’t have to feel guilty about. The end to their... whatever it was that they had, had to come eventually. The lies would pile up until Asami wouldn’t be able to take it.

Something would eventually have to give.

She went around and around the same subject in her mind too many times in the day. People stopped emailing each other all of the time. Why couldn’t she simply stop? What did she fear she’d lose if she did?

Bolin and Opal had asked, and Asami had dismissed the subject, saying it was nothing so many times that even she didn’t believe it. But if it wasn’t nothing, what was it? Addiction to anonymity? Blind optimism that this might somehow work out okay in the end?

With a sigh, she turned back into the bedroom. She’d turned on the lamp on her desk earlier, and the room was bathed in orange hues and soft shadows. She put the glass on the desk and powered up the computer, not bothering to sit. She would check her email. If there was nothing, she would go to bed and try to forget about the hole she’d dug herself into. If there was an email... well, then she’d take her cue from there.

The boot up process took longer than usual, or at least it seemed that way as Asami stared at the monitor, waiting. As she moved the mouse around and clicked on the appropriate programs, she told herself that she didn’t care one way or the other what Korra thought of her. She wanted desperately to convince herself of that.

Asami hesitated at the login information. The cursor hovered over the ‘enter’ button and then clicked. 

In the split second it took for the page to load, she held her breath in anticipation, hoping an empty inbox wouldn’t disappoint her as much as she feared.

But there it was: a new message. Her spirits lifted briefly until she realized that Korra could have very well written back to say she was disgusted, or perhaps to link Asami to the nearest Save Yourself From Sin website.

Fearing the worst, she opened the message.

To: Sami T.

From: Korra

Subject: I think it’s time we changed the subject title

_Dear Sami,_

_I was thinking about what you said, about it being weird to summarize oneself, and I realized that you’re right. It’s not like I’d go up to someone I don’t know very well and say, ‘Hi there, please summarize yourself.’ That would be weird._

_Still, I can’t help but be curious about you, I guess because I don’t have anything else to go by than what you tell me. I can’t, for example, make my own assumptions about who you are based on your body language or your tone of voice._

_For all I know, you’re not at all who you say you are. My roommate, by the way, suggested you might be a serial killer. I’m telling you this because I don’t actually believe that you are._

_Of course, with my luck, you’ll show up at my door with a chainsaw and prove me wrong. I’d have no one to blame but myself for that, I guess. I did give you the idea. Maybe you were thinking of using an axe, but I said chainsaw and you thought, ‘Oooh!’_

_I’m so bad at not going off on a totally inappropriate tangent. Please forget I said anything about serial killers and chainsaws._

_I guess my point is that since I’m not used to missing so many visual clues about a person, I’m at a loss here. But it occurs to me as I type this that it doesn’t really matter. Already I know that you’re the sort of person I can talk to. Or type to, anyway. And I really enjoy reading what you have to say. That’s good enough, right?_

_All the same, here are some factoids about yours truly so that you can begin to regret having ever emailed me._

  1. _I’m 23. My birthday is January 5th._
  2. _I like to claim photography as a hobby but the truth is that I haven’t picked up my camera in ages._
  3. _For a long time I decided to collect toilet paper squares. I know this will sound very strange, and I’m embarrassed to admit it, but yes. Toilet paper squares._
  4. _I have since realized that that is insane, and stopped._
  5. _I have ten toes._
  6. _Divided equally between two feet._
  7. _My hair is brown, my eyes are blue, and I have always wished one or the other was green._
  8. _I can’t cook. Well, I can... but I don’t. I’m pretty sure Kuvira and I have every take out menu in Manhattan._
  9. _I think Christmas is my favorite time of the year. That is probably un-PC to say. I’ll say, ‘the Holidays’ instead._
  10. _I like to sing in the shower. But so does everyone... right? lol_



_Anyway, back to the ever-present subject of love which seems to be the constant theme of our exchanges..._

_Thanks for allowing me on the short list of people who know males aren’t your type. I strongly suspect that the anonymous aspect of our online friendship (I can call it that, right?) had a lot to do with you trusting me with the info, but I appreciate it all the same._

_My sister recently came out to our family, after years of hiding it. My family didn’t take it well at all. I think I’m the only one that’s still speaking to her. To be honest, I’ve not been speaking to my family much either, lately, so I don’t know for sure. But I’m pretty certain that were I to go visit, I’d find empty spaces where pictures of Tara used to hang. Their reaction is so upsetting to me that I try not to think about it._

_I met my sister’s girlfriend, the one she’d kept a secret, and loved her instantly. I’m still sad that Tara didn’t tell me sooner. I want to understand why she didn’t, but the truth is, I don’t. She had to know it wouldn’t change anything for me. I guess she didn’t know that, or she would’ve said something. I suppose what hurts about it is that I always felt that she and I were close; and suddenly it felt like I didn’t know her at all._

_It would have been nice if I’d known beforehand so I would’ve been prepared to stand at her side when she told everyone. Instead, she shocked me right along with everyone else, and I simply froze. The family erupted into chaos and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I suppose that judging by my initial reaction she might’ve thought she’d been right in not telling me. But I was just surprised. Surprised and hurt that I’d had no idea. And I think, as a result, a little angry._

_You probably think it’s stupid of me to make this about me, when obviously it’s not. I guess I’m just sad to think that for years she led a different life from the one I believed she did; a life I would’ve been more than happy to be a part of. But I suppose it’s pointless to think about the past. I lay awake sometimes thinking about so many things I have no control over. Why do I do that to myself?_

_Anyway, enough about that. Tell me, now that I know who’s not your type, care to tell me who is?_

_Until later,_

_Korra_

_P.S. I’m sorry my emails to you always run so long..._

Asami re-read the email several times before sinking down on the chair. She almost laughed with relief. Korra didn’t care. She had worried, like an idiot, for nothing, and now she felt stupid. Stupid and somewhat self-conscious that she’d cared so much what a stranger thought of her.

Then again, isn’t that what she based her career on?

Relief slowly gave way to sadness, as she read the email one more time. She didn’t want to lie to the artist. The fact that Korra seemed so willing to trust her tore at Asami’s heart. She wanted, quite badly, to lay everything out on the table; to pour out every last detail about herself and not worry about what would happen. She wanted to trust Korra. She wanted to take a chance for once instead of hiding behind her fear of what-if scenarios.

And still she knew she couldn’t, or rather, wouldn’t, tell Korra the truth. It was nice having someone in her life that liked her without wanting anything from her. Who liked her without knowing she was famous, or rich, or anything at all. Whatever they had, this online friendship ... it felt nice. It felt, unlike almost everything else in Asami’s life, real.

Hesitating a brief moment, she pushed the chair forward and hit ‘reply’.

To: Korra

From: Sami T.

Subject: I guess we better come up with a new subject

_Dear Korra,_

_You’ll be relieved to know that I’m not a serial killer. Of course, you’ll just have to take my word for that, since I’m not sure there’s a way to prove such a thing. For all I know, you could be the one with the chainsaw tearing down my door one of these days. Disgruntled New York Artists are the future threat of America. ;)_

_I might regret asking this but: how does one go about collecting toilet paper? And... why?_

_What did you do with the toilet paper once you collected it? And... why? What about toilet paper that didn’t come in squares like from those giant rolls in public bathrooms, what then?_

_Did I already ask why?_

_Anyway, since you started it, I’ll humor you..._

  1. _As I mentioned, I’m twenty-five – my birthday is on July 10th._
  2. _My hair is, at the moment, black, which is actually its natural color. It does, however, tend to change color very frequently through unnatural means – not to green, though (yet). My eyes are green. For a long time, I wanted them to be brown. I don’t know why. I rather like them now._
  3. _I have always wanted to go to Paris, but I keep putting it off. Next year... maybe._
  4. _I also have ten toes... but I’ll let you guess how they’re distributed._
  5. _Apples are my favorite fruit. Bananas come a close second._
  6. _I always wanted a sister. I got an evil, moronic, self-absorbed half-brother instead._
  7. _Cookie Dough ice cream is my fave. I could live on the stuff. Not even kidding._
  8. _I have been known to watch countless hours of the Food Network or HGTV without changing the channel._
  9. _Halloween is my favorite holiday, but I have often wished to live somewhere with snow so that I could fully appreciate the Christmas-time feel. People in shorts and tank tops in mid-December kind of ruin the experience._
  10. _I have never felt compelled to sing in the shower. But I’m sure you’re not alone in that. :)_



_There you go._

_You’re right in that the fact that we don’t really know each other played a big part in my telling you that I’m gay. Until very recently, only one other person knew and I had hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. Then one turned into two, and now three. I always feared the day when the numbers would begin to multiply. And the weird thing is that, so far, I don’t regret it. I’ve told the right people, I suppose._

_What I fear, I think, is telling the wrong one._

_I’m sure that your sister not telling you sooner had all to do with her fear of your reaction, and wasn’t meant as a reflection of how she feels about you. She probably didn’t know for certain how you’d react, and maybe telling your whole family at once seemed like the easiest way for her to deal with your reaction. Perhaps one-on-one was simply too hard._

_It’s a weird thing, worrying what the people you love most in the world will think of you once you tell them. If it makes you feel better, it’s very likely that some days she kicks herself for not telling you sooner. :)_

_Secrets are never fun, especially when you want so badly to tell the person everything... But anyway. You asked about my type. I’m sure that I have one ... but I haven’t really thought about it. I guess I want all of those things that everyone wants. Someone I’m attracted to that’s also funny and smart and nice and understands me to the extent that I need to be understood (whatever that is) and isn’t a psychopath or a sociopath or any negative-type of path (or road or walkway)._

_It’s so hard, I think, to narrow it down into specific characteristics. I think I’m looking for someone that has, not the qualities I have always wanted in someone, but rather, all the qualities I didn’t know I wanted._

_What’s your type?_

_Until soon,_

_Sami_

_P.S. I don’t mind your emails running long. :)_

Asami sent the email and stood from the desk. As she walked down to the kitchen to put her glass in the sink, she suddenly thought of Taylor Rose. From their brief interaction Asami had already decided that she liked the director. She was looking forward to working with her. Maybe, someday, they could even become friends.

But if the opportunity to be more than that ever presented itself, would Asami take it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re so cute ahhh


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Winter was Korra’s favorite time of the year. She enjoyed seeing the holiday decorations start to appear all over the city, and waiting for the first snowfall of the year. It was the only time of year when Korra felt hopeful, as though change – the good kind of change – was right around the corner, if only she was patient enough to wait for it. It was a time of giving, of caring, of wiping the slate clean and starting over.

Winter, however, also meant that the bulk of Korra’s art would sit in a corner of her bedroom, taking up room and going nowhere. It was for that reason that she’d spent the afternoon circling job openings in the newspaper.

Her morning had been spent in front of her easel, trying her hand at something artistic for the first time in weeks. The end result had been better than she’d expected. Good enough, in fact, to join the pile of paintings waiting to be sold. But in the end, that’s not where she put it. In the end, she put it to the side, thinking that perhaps someday it might make a good gift for Sami.

She’d found it a strange thought at first, painting something and thinking of Sami when she was finished, but she decided to go with it. Who was she to question inspiration?

She stared down at the newspaper and the many red circles she’d placed upon the page. The other nice thing about the holidays was the surplus of job openings.

“How’s the job hunt going?” Kuvira asked, suddenly stepping into view.

“Retail by the pound,” Korra said.

“Ooh, joy.” Kuvira poured coffee into a mug and leaned against the counter as she sipped.

Korra glanced at the time on the microwave and arched an eyebrow. “Did you just wake up?”

“Indeed.”

“It’s three.”

Kuvira nodded as if it was perfect normal. “I was on the phone until late.”

“Oh?”

“James called.”

“James...”

“The porn star.”

Korra laughed. “He has a name now?”

“He’s actually really deep. I wasn’t expecting that. You know he’s just doing the porn stuff to put himself through med school?”

“What happens when one of his patients finds a video of him?”

Kuvira smiled. “He refuses to tape his face. See? He’s thought ahead. He’s a smart boy. He also does escort services on the side. I would totally do that if I was a guy. Get paid hundreds of dollars an hour to accompany an old rich lady to the opera or something. Men are so lucky.”

“Maybe I should get a job doing something like that,” Korra said thoughtfully. “I’m sure there’s some old rich men who’d like a young woman by their side in public.”

“Sure. And it’s not like you couldn’t outrun them if they tried to get frisky.”

Korra nodded as if seriously contemplating the option. “Well, that solves my job problem.”

“Great. So, listen, I have awesome news.” Kuvira pushed several newspapers to the side and sat down at the table.

Korra perked up. “Oh? I could do with awesome news. Lay it on me.”

“Well, it turns out that James' sister has a friend whose brother is seriously a V.I.P. in the theater world, and the brother is also sort of friends with James' sister so he tells her stuff, and then she tells James stuff.”

“I’m going to pretend I got all that.”

“It’s not important. So, anyway, he told James' sister that the Santivell Theater is hosting a series of semi- open call auditions. There’s going to be a bunch of different directors there. And it’s all pretty upscale. So basically, to find out about it, you have to either be someone in the know, or know someone in the know, or... well, you get the idea. It’s not being advertised in public channels. So basically, the cream of the crop of desperate New York actors are going to be there.” Kuvira smiled brightly.

“I’m guessing that includes you?”

“Hell yeah. James told me as long as you know where and when it is, you’re set.”

“That’s really great, Kuvira,” Korra said, grinning.

“And of course you’re coming with me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Uh, let’s see... moral support? And because you’re my lucky charm. Every play I ever got, you were at the audition.”

“That’s so not true.”

“It’s mostly true.”

“Fine. When is this little shindig, so I can clear my totally busy schedule.”

“In two weeks. December 16th. Noon. Santivell Theater.”

“Done.”

Kuvira bounced in her chair. “I can’t wait. You know, James said there might even be some movie directors there. Can you imagine?”

Korra smiled at her best friend’s enthusiasm. Kuvira had the talent, the looks, and the ambition. All she needed was the right person to see her at the right time. Maybe this would be Kuvira’s big chance.

Secretly, she hoped her own big chance would come soon too, as she stared down at the assortment of depressing red circles. She grabbed the phone receiver and clicked it on.

“Time to schedule some interviews.”

***

Winter always reminded Asami of what she’d lost. She couldn’t remember a single Christmas from when her mother had been alive, but she liked to believe that they had been happy times. She liked to think that her father, back then, had been a better person, less of a work-a-holic, someone devoted to both wife and child. Her grandmother would have been there, too. The family mansion would have been lit with Holiday cheer and decorations, instead of the cold, depressing house it had become.

The Christmases Asami could remember hadn’t been all bad, yet her memories weren’t particularly good. Her father had been absent for a few of them, leaving her in the company of Misaki and Mizu. Her grandmother, who resided in the guesthouse, always stayed away on Christmas mornings. Asami suspected that Christmas, for her grandmother, was difficult.

She had both a daughter and a husband to mourn, and her own happy memories to revisit in private.

Asami would sneak off to visit later in the day. They would have dinner and talk about Asami’s gifts. Her grandmother would give her something. Always just one thing, despite her endless amounts of money. Her grandmother’s presents were always Asami’s favorite, no matter how many others had come in the day.

The last Christmas Asami got to spend with her grandmother, her gift had been an ankle bracelet. Asami had put it on the moment she’d received it and not taken it off until the day her grandmother died. That day, she took it off. That day, she twirled it around in her hand and found, for the first time, the inscription: “Action is the antidote to despair.”

Joan Baez. Asami had always liked that quote, and it pained her that she’d not known the inscription was there, and that her grandmother had watched her put the ankle bracelet on, and not said anything.

On this particular morning, Asami had removed the piece of jewelry from the box she kept it in and held it in her hand the entire ride to the cemetery. Every month, when she could, Asami made the same trek. It had once been her grandmother’s ritual, and one that Asami had always looked forward to. Hand in hand, they would walk to her mother’s tombstone, lay flowers, and pay respects in their individual ways.

But this day, Asami walked alone, letting the small drops of rain drip down the lengths of her long, leather jacket. She clutched, in her right hand, the ankle bracelet she had yet to put back on. In her left, she carried a bouquet of pink roses, her mother’s favorite.

The cemetery was free of wandering mourners or grounds keepers and Asami was grateful for the privacy as she walked along the rows of tombstones towards her own dearly departed.

At her mother’s grave, she kneeled, not caring that the grass was moist. She placed the flowers gently below the name Yusuko Sato, and stood back up. Her grandmother’s gravestone was beside her mother’s. From her pocket, she withdrew a puzzle piece. It was part of the last jigsaw puzzle they’d been building together; the one left unfinished. She put the piece on top of the grave and moved away.

Into the cool morning air, still wet despite the sudden lack of rain, she sighed, and pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit last month,” she said in a near whisper. “I’m sure you know I had some crazy filming hours. I think it’s going well, though, this season of Guardian. They changed a few of the writers and I think that’s helped.” She looked at the ground. “Opal and Bolin are dating, which is nice. They’re a good couple once you really think about it. I’m pretty sure they’ll have one of those relationships filled with bickering and stupid fights. They’re both so stubborn and ridiculous.”

She smiled. “But they’re good for each other.”

The sound of a bird flying over head caught Asami’s attention for a moment. She watched it until it flew out of sight, then turned back. “I took the lead in a lesbian movie. I’m not at all sure how you’d feel about that, but I like to think you’d be okay with it. I like to think you’d be okay with everything. With me.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, grandma, that I never told you. I think I’d deal with it all a little better these days if you’d known, and told me what to do. I think I could use some of your wisdom.”

She hesitated and said, “I have a penpal in New York. Well, I suppose it would be more of a keyboard pal... or something. She’s an artist. You’d both like her, I think. She seems sweet. The problem is that I’m lying to her, or at least, not so much lying as not really telling the whole truth, and I wish I knew what to do about that. I can’t tell her who I am and I can’t seem to stop replying to her e-mails, so...” She shrugged. “I’m stuck.”

The wind picked up, whipping strands of hair across her face. She moved them away, tucking them behind her ear and waited for the wind to pass. “I guess there’s a part of me,” she continued, once it had, “that thinks maybe someday I’ll be able to tell her everything. Maybe someday I’ll feel comfortable with her knowing who I am and trusting that she won’t turn around and hurt me or blackmail me in some way. As much as I don’t think she would do that, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take right now. I don’t know her well enough and she doesn’t know me and...” She paused, thinking things through. “I guess I hope that her knowing me, really knowing me, will help her forgive me, and not think differently of me once she knows who I am.” She paused, shrugging. “Not that I really expect that to ever happen. Her not thinking differently of me, I mean.”

The drizzling started again and Asami looked up to find that the sky had darkened considerably. It would rain soon, but she went on, “And then there’s the director of that film I agreed to do. We really hit it off, which is incredibly rare for me, and... I caught her looking at me a lot when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Who knows what that means? Lots of people look at me, I guess. Not... not to sound conceited.” She sighed, feeling frustrated. “It’s so hard to know how people feel or think or what it is they want. If she did like me... not that I’m saying she does, but if she ever did... and if I ever came to like her... I think I would flee the first chance I got. I think I’d deny any form of attraction and go on with my life.”

The wind got stronger, suddenly, pushing through the leaves of the trees. “What a sad life, though,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’d be proud of me, if you were alive to see me now. I know it, actually. But, I guess, if either of you were alive... or if both of you were alive, I don’t think I’d be so scared to lose the things I love. Acting is the one thing I have left. Why gamble with it?”

She opened her palm, watching the drops of rain land upon her skin. A drop hit the ankle bracelet, then another, briefly magnifying the word ‘action’ before sliding away. She closed her hand and put it back in her pocket. “I have to go,” she said softly. “I’ll try to come for Christmas.”

The rain fell harder as she walked away. She didn’t watch it drown the flowers or soak the piece of the puzzle she’d left behind.

***

Korra stared disdainfully at the blinking lights on her modem. She’d received Sami’ email the day before, but her Internet connection had crashed in the process of her typing a new subject line. She’d waited patiently for it to return, as it usually did, but one day later, the lights still blinked randomly at her.

“Please come back,” she pleaded. “I’ll love you forever.”

The modem didn’t seem to care for her advances, and Korra was forced to give up staring at the thing and do something productive instead. She dug her laptop case from beneath the bed and placed her computer inside. If the Internet wouldn’t come to her, she would go to it. New York City was laden with free wi-fi spots, and Korra was confident that she’d find a spot in no time.

An hour and a half of walking around later, she finally parked herself on a table and booted up. She’d ordered a large coffee and a chocolate muffin, and it was delivered promptly by a guy in a blue apron. She thanked him and relaxed into the chair. Coffee and the Internet, what more could anyone want?

Smiling, she started up her email and watched the spam mail load into the junk folder.

“Hey.”

She heard the voice, but didn’t look up right away, thinking that it hadn’t been directed at her. But then it came again and she looked up to find Adam staring down at her. His brown eyes sparkled as he smiled.

“I swear I’m not stalking you,” he said. “I saw you when you were in line and just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” she said. She nodded at the cup in his hand. “Sustenance?”

He glanced at the cup and chuckled. “Yeah. Finals are going to be tough this semester. I’m going to be pulling a few all-nighters.”

“Same here.” She lifted her own cup by way of evidence. “I have four papers to write for one class. It’s gotta be a form of torture, this whole college thing.”

“Definitely.” He smiled at her for a moment. “Well, it was nice running into you. I have to get back to my studio and get to work. See you around?” 

“I’m sure.” Korra smiled back and waved as he walked away. She watched him through the window until he crossed the street and disappeared into the crowd. Turning back to the computer, she saw that Sami had written again. Grinning, she opened the message.

To: Korra 

From: Sami T.

Subject: I can’t sleep

_ Dear Korra, _

_ It’s four in the morning over here, and I can’t seem to fall asleep. I guess I, too, suffer from the Thoughts of Things I Can’t Control Syndrome, and I was hoping you’d figured out a cure. _

_ It’s likely you won’t get this in time to help me, but I thought I’d try anyway. _

_ Hope you’re having a good [insert appropriate time of day here]. _

_ Your online friend, _

_ Sami _

Korra smiled and hit reply.

To: Sami T.

From: Korra 

Subject: I hope you managed to sleep by now

_ Dear Sami, _

_ I’m afraid I have no cure for you. Usually, I just stay up and let the thoughts run their course. Eventually, they leave me alone and I’m able to sleep. They (the ever-elusive, ever-mysterious ‘They’) say warm milk helps, but I’ve tried that, and I think They are full of crap. _

_ I wanted to apologize for not writing back sooner. My stupid Internet decided to crash on me. I’ll have to call the provider later (I hate dealing with those people), but for now I’m sitting in a café with free wi-fi. It’s quite heavenly, actually. After I’m done procrastinating with you (don’t you feel used?), I have about one million pages of literature to finish reading so I can then proceed to write two million pages about totally meaningless things regarding said literature. I exaggerate only slightly. _

_ I have the next two days off from school, then a week and a half of finals, and then freedom for three glorious non-academic weeks. I plan to spend these weeks of freedom as a slave to corporate America (a.k.a. working retail). I went to a job interview earlier in the day and they hired me on the spot. I guess I look like the honest, hard-working type. That, or the holiday rush is starting and they’re desperate. _

_ Anyway, the other night I went out to a local bar with Kuvira. The plan, I thought, was to have a good time by watching Kuvira make a fool of herself. Instead, the whole thing turned out to be a set-up with a guy Kuvira had been trying to introduce me to for a while now. He turned out to be pretty nice, actually, and what should’ve been a totally awkward situation didn’t end up badly at all. Still, I told him that I wasn’t ready to date anyone and he was nice enough to understand. _

_ I ran into him a few minutes ago, actually. He happened to be here, too. New York feels really small when that sort of thing happens. _

_ Even though I told him I wasn’t ready for anything, I’m keeping the card he gave me. I think it’s too rare nowadays to find people that don’t instantly creep you out. It has to be a good sign, right? Maybe, after finals, I’ll give him a call. Do you think that’s a bad idea? Maybe it’s too soon... _

_ Oh, you’ll be happy to know that I spent the morning painting. It had been a while, too long, really. It felt wonderful to step back and see something worth sharing. I’m holding on to it for now. _

_ I’m looking forward to the time off from school. I’ll be working part-time, just enough to get a little extra cash now that it’s too cold to be selling my artwork in public. I had hoped to get some of my work in a showing of student pieces (it’s a huge honor to be chosen), but I haven’t heard anything yet. _

_ Kuvira told me I had to go the extra mile to be noticed, and I’m sure she’s right, but that’s not who I am. I don’t want my art to be chosen because I was more memorable than everyone else. I want it to be chosen because it was memorable on its own. How will I ever gauge its true value if I don’t let it stand on its own? _

_ Is that naïve of me? _

_ I guess it is. I guess I just want to be true to myself, above all things. While I want to succeed, I don’t want it to be at the cost of who I am.  _

_ So... listen, I was wondering (and you’re more than welcome to say no) if I could have your number so I could call you sometime? I felt bad that I had no way of letting you know my Internet was down. Not that I think you were losing sleep over that or anything. I just... I don’t know. I hate not having a way to communicate with someone. I picked up a new phone earlier with free night time and weekend minutes anywhere in the US. So it won’t cost me anything to call you... _

_ Again, you’re more than welcome to say no if you think it would be too weird, or an invasion of your privacy or... anything like that. No hard feelings, I promise. :-) _

_ Well, I’m afraid I must leave you now and get started on my work for finals. I hope the day finds you well. _

_ Your friend, _

_ Korra _

***

“Call me?” Asami frowned at the screen and moved away from it as though it might suddenly ring and put Korra’ voice through. “She wants to call me? Why would she ever want to do that?”

She didn’t reply to the email. Instead, she closed the laptop and sat back, pondering what to say. In all of her wildest imaginings, the thought of Korra suggesting to call her had never occurred to Asami. She had pictured them sending emails back and forth for a long time to come, until one got tired of the other. There would be a natural progression toward the end of their communication. But a phone call?

The phone’s sudden ringing made Asami jump and she stared in dumb surprise at the object on her desk until it rang again. She picked it up and looked at the name and number on the display screen. Taylor Rose.

On the third ring, she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Asami,” came the director’s voice. “How are you today?”

It took Asami a brief moment to remember that she’d given Taylor her personal number before leaving the restaurant. Why she’d done that, Heaven knew. “I’m good, Taylor. Yourself?”

“Well, I’m currently lost somewhere in West Hollywood, so I can’t say I’m doing great. I’m supposed to meet with one of the producers and she gave me crappy instructions. Other than that, though, I’m wonderful.”

Asami smiled into the receiver, feeling somewhat reserved. Why was Taylor calling? “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, not the part about being wonderful otherwise. Getting lost isn’t fun.”

“I’ll find my way, don’t worry. The reason I was calling was to ask how your schedule was looking for the rest of the month. I know it’s Christmas and everything ...”

“It’s pretty light this time of year, actually.” Asami’s stepmother, brother and father were indeed spending the Holidays in Paris. She’d been reluctantly invited, and she had enthusiastically declined. If she was ever to go to Paris, it would be with someone she actually wanted to spend time with. Korra would love the Louvre. The thought, however innocent, made her frown.

“Excellent. I know your lawyers are still going over the contract we sent their way and we haven’t made anything official yet, but I was hoping you’d be able to accompany me to New York in a week or so.”

Asami’s heart jumped in her chest. “New York?”

“Yeah. I’m doing some casting calls for the film and I was hoping you could be there to help me audition people for the role of Samantha. I’ll have you back for Christmas, don’t worry.”

“Well, I’ll have to verify with my assistant. She’s the keeper of my time, but assuming I don’t have anything pressing, I’d love to.”

“Great! Well, you’ve got my number. Just have your assistant call if it’s a go or not. We’ll take care of your expenses and everything, so all you’ll have to worry about is showing up.”

“Sounds good. Good luck finding your way.”

Taylor let out a soft laugh. “Thanks. Take care.” 

Asami snapped the cell phone shut and sat there. New York. A week or so of passing by every twenty- something girl and wondering if that, by chance, was Korra. A week or so of trying to cast her fake lesbian lover, before ever finding a real one. A week or so of working closely with Taylor Rose.

She flipped the phone open and dialed.

“Hey, I’m pulling into your driveway as we speak,” Opal said when she picked up. “I got your dress for the party Friday night. Also, I called your blind date doctor and it turns out he’d love to go with you. So now you’ve even got a date. Now all you need are shoes and the desire to actually go.”

Asami smiled as she walked down the stairs to open the door for Opal. “At least the shoes will be easy enough,” she said, as Opal came up the steps to the door. She hung up the phone and held the door open. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” Opal headed up the stairs to hang the dress, and Asami followed. “So what were you calling about?”

“Oh, I was wondering what my schedule is like for the rest of the month. Do I have anything important anywhere?”

Opal shrugged as she hung the dress. “You have eight thousand holiday party invitations, but that’s about it.”

“I’m going to the one on Friday just to show my face in public before Christmas, and then I’m done until New Year’s. Make a note of that somewhere.”

“Uh, I think I can remember you not wanting to do anything. What are you doing for Christmas Eve, anyway?”

Asami shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I’d cook myself something and watch A Christmas Story for the billionth time. You?”

“Having dinner with Bolin. You should join us.”

“Don’t you guys want to be alone?”

“On Christmas Eve? No way. Bolin is cooking.”

Asami cringed. “Okay, never mind. How about you two come over here for dinner?”

Opal grinned. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m doing it for myself. Last time I had Bolin’s food I thought I was going to die.”

“I don’t know what the hell he uses as seasoning. Rat poison maybe.”

Asami laughed. “Hey, listen, Taylor needs me in New York in a week or so. Can you call her back and arrange all of the... arrangements?”

“New York?” Opal suddenly looked intrigued. “New York with Taylor? New York with Taylor and the artist?”

“It’s not New York with Taylor. She’s doing casting calls. I’m going to help by standing next to random women and waiting for Taylor to gauge our potential onscreen chemistry.”

“That’s hot. Can I watch?”

“Not a chance.”

“I’ll just ask Taylor if I can watch when I call her back.” Opal smiled sweetly. “What about the artist? Are you going to try and make contact?”

“Of course not. Our interactions are restricted to the Internet.” She froze, remembering Korra’s question about calling her. “Hey, what do you think of my voice over the phone? Do you think I’m easily recognizable?”

Opal blinked at her in confusion. “What?”

“Like, say you didn’t have caller I.D. and I called you out of the blue, would you recognize my voice over the phone?”

“Of course.”

Asami frowned, then shook her head. “Yeah but you talk to me all of the time. I need someone who doesn’t.”

“You’ve totally lost me.”

Asami looked at Opal and shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t you have shoes to find me?”

“Uh, no. I’m having Manuel bring you a fine selection of designer shoes. He’ll be here in two hours.”

Asami sighed. Her fashion guru of choice was friendly and lovable but he would undoubtedly make her try on every pair of shoes in his selection. He’d be there forever. “Yay,” she said flatly.

“Can I stay and watch you try on every pair of shoes in existence? I’m hoping he has extras he doesn’t want.”

Asami sighed. “Yeah, sure.” She looked at her computer briefly, recalling the unanswered email. “Opal, can you get me someone on the phone who’s never spoken to me personally?”

“What is this about?”

“Can you just pretend I didn’t ask something totally weird of you?”

“Not a chance.”

Asami smiled. “Then do it because it’s your job.”

Opal frowned at her, then flipped open her cell phone. “You’re being entirely too cryptic lately. It’s oddly intriguing.” She put the phone to her ear. “It’s ringing.”

“Who are you calling?”

“My mother.”

Asami started to protest but Opal interrupted her by saying, “Hi Mom!” into the phone. “How are you?... uh-huh... uh-huh... yeah... I know, yeah... uh-uh...yup. So, listen, there’s someone here that wants to talk to you.”

Asami found herself with a phone pressed to her ear. Reluctantly, she took it, and cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but by any chance, does my voice sound familiar to you?”

“Is this Opal? Opal? Can you please stop playing these stupid games. I told your father the other day about my bad knee. Do you think I need you to play games with me when I have a bad knee... do you? Answer me, young lady...”

Her voice trailed away as Asami removed the phone from her ear and handed it back to Opal.

“Sorry, mom. Talk to you soon. Love you.” Opal hung up and smiled at Asami.

“That was incredibly awkward. And wrong.”

“It really was. I found it terribly amusing.” Opal sat down on the bed. “So what was that all about?”

“Helloooo?” a male voice called from somewhere downstairs.

“Up here!” Opal called down.

A second later, Bolin was standing in the doorway. He looked between Opal and Asami for a long moment. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Why yes,” Opal said. “Asami was just about to tell me why she just had me call up my mom so she could ask her if she recognized her voice.”

“Ooh, Cryptic Asami is back, goody.” Bolin ran to the bed and bounced onto it. “Tell us more, Cryptic Asami.”

“Wait!” Opal suddenly yelled. She turned and whispered something in Bolin’s ear.

He laughed. “I don’t think so.” He whispered something back.

Opal frowned. “You think?”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” Opal turned back to Asami. “Go.”

Asami stared at them for a very long moment. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Yes!” Bolin yelled, pumping his hand in the air. “I am so good. You owe me twenty.”

“Damn it.”

Asami watched her assistant draw a twenty dollar bill from her wallet and hand it to Bolin. “The two of you scare me, you really do.”

“Is it about the artist?” Bolin asked.

“Last time Cryptic Asami emerged it was because of the artist.” This from Opal. “Is it?”

“Does she want to talk to you on the phone or something?”

“Ooooh! Does she?” Opal bounced up and down on the bed. “I’m sure she wouldn’t recognize your voice. Even if she thought you sounded like Asami Sato it’s not like she’d really think it was you.”

Bolin was nodding. “And besides, it’s not like you have a terribly out of the ordinary voice. Your voice is a normal, womanly voice.”

“Sexy womanly voice.”

“And I’m still not freaking out about comments like that.”

“Your new shrink is a Godsend.”

Asami just looked at them. Without saying anything at all, she walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for not uploading. I’ve been crazy busy lately. Plus the election has been really stressful. I’m very hopeful that Biden will win. Since you’re reading this wlw fic, I hope you agree with me haha! Since I didn’t upload for a few days, I’ll try and post 2 chapters tomorrow :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“And time!” Professor Tenzin called to the sound of resentful murmurs. “Paintbrushes down. Leave your paintings at the easels. Please make sure you’ve put your name legibly on the canvas before walking out. Enjoy your Holidays! See some of you next semester.”

Korra put her paintbrush down and stared at the painting before her. It was finished, more or less, and the arrangement of blue hues on the canvas actually looked presentable. She made sure she’d signed the corner as legibly as possible, and retrieved her messenger bag from beneath the stool.

“Korra, please come see me before you leave.”

For a moment, Korra thought she’d heard wrong. Yet as she looked around, she noticed the looks the other students were throwing her way and she knew it hadn’t been a mistake. Professor Tenzin had called her.

Swallowing nervously, Korra made her way past the rows of others’ finals and waited for the students saying goodbye to the professor to disperse.

It was the first time the professor had ever called her to her desk after class, and she hoped desperately that she wasn’t somehow in trouble. Had she forgotten an assignment? Had she accidentally looked around while painting, leading her to think that she had copied someone else’s work? She tried not to think about it, as she waited.

The last of the students finally left the room, and the professor turned grey eyes on her. “Korra,” he said, in a voice that gave no indication whether he was mad or not.

“Yes, Professor?”

She nodded as she turned to look down at something on his desk. Korra tried to see what it was, to gain a clue as to what was coming, but nothing popped out. “You submitted a piece called Silence, did you not?”

Korra nodded, her heart beating somewhat erratically. She tried draw forth a memory of the painting but came up blank. “I did.”

“It was...” He paused to look up at her. “...inspired.”

Korra let out a breath. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m not in the habit of repeating compliments in order for young, inexperienced artists to feel boastful.”

Korra swallowed again.

The grey eyes regarded her quietly. When he spoke again, his tone was unreadable. “I would like to feature your painting at the Student Art Show next week at the Hederman Gallery. You may pick three other pieces, approved by me, of course. Your pieces can be put for sale, if you wish them to be. An expert from the gallery will work with you to determine an appropriate cost for each piece. I will not bother to ask whether or not you are interested, as you would be a fool to refuse. So, please be back here Monday morning, at eight sharp, with the pieces of your choice. Bring several options, as I’m very picky and short on time. Good day, Korra.”

It hadn’t hit her yet, what he’d said. Not fully. But she recognized that it was a good thing, and responded accordingly. “Thank you, sir! I will be here Monday at eight.”

He had already dismissed her and his disinterest was evident by the way he turned his attention to student work left in the room. Korra watched him with interest, knowing she should leave, but wanting to see what he thought of her final as she passed it. To Korra's disappointment, he barely gave it a second glance.

She left, then, and walked out of the room. In the hallway, she paused to absorb what the professor had told her. Inspired, he’d called it. Inspired.

She smiled and continued on her way to the subway station. Her art had been chosen. Hers. She walked in a daze. Picturing her art pieces framed and on display. She imagined people walking around them, stopping to look and point and comment. She placed herself in the background, a proud observant. She would be poised and confident. She would politely offer compliments on others’ works. She would shake hands and answer questions and try not to let her excitement show instead as arrogance.

She pushed open the door to her apartment building, not remembering the trip home at all.

The first thought she had as she rode the elevator to her apartment, was of emailing Sami to tell her. It wasn’t until she’d unlocked the door to her apartment that she realized that her first thought should’ve been of Kuvira.

***

Asami had spent an extraordinary amount of time in the middle of a very boring conversation with a man who claimed to be a film director, but that Asami strongly suspected had simply crashed the party. Her date had gotten a call from the hospital earlier in the evening and had had to cut their evening short. Asami had stayed behind, despite not wanting to, because leaving at that point in time would have been in bad taste.

“I have a yacht,” the man was saying. “I don’t sail much anymore. I busted my shoulder rock climbing. Have you ever been rock climbing, Asami?”

“I have not,” Asami answered.

“Oh it’s a rush! You’d love it. Maybe I could take you some time...”

“Asami,” a voice said behind her.

Asami could’ve kissed whomever it was for saving her, however briefly, from the yawn of a man beside her. When she turned, she nearly blushed. “Taylor,” she greeted, trying to hide her surprise behind, what she hoped, was a casual smile. The director was dressed elegantly in a black, spaghetti-strapped dress. The fabric clung to her every curve, and Asami hoped she wasn’t staring.

The man, whose name she remembered was Aaron, cleared his throat.

Asami turned and smiled politely at him. “I’m sorry, Aaron. This is Taylor Prince. She’s a director too. Taylor, this is Aaron Davis. He was just telling me about rock climbing.”

Taylor shook his hand and smiled at him. “Really? You know I climbed K2 last year. Made it to the summit. What’s your highest altitude, Aaron?”

Aaron coughed. “It’s um... I’m going to get a refill on this. You ladies want anything?”

“I’m good,” Asami said. “Same here.”

They watched him leave and Asami sighed with relief. “You’re my hero. He wanted to give me rock climbing lessons.”

Taylor laughed. “Aaron Davis barely knows how to climb out of bed.”

“You know him?”

“He’s my friend’s ex-assistant. He got fired for... well, pretty much what he’s doing now.”

Asami smiled. “Did you really climb K2?”

“I barely know how to climb out of bed myself.” Taylor smiled.

Asami nodded. “Guess I’m surrounded by pathological liars tonight.”

“It wouldn’t be a Hollywood party otherwise.”

Asami laughed at that. “So true.”

Taylor was looking around. “So, where’s your date? I saw him earlier but he disappeared.”

Asami found it curious that Taylor had noticed her date, considering he’d been at her side for all of two seconds. “Oh, he had to go back to the hospital. He’s a surgeon.”

Taylor looked impressed. “Nice. That’s so much more noble than what we do.”

“He’s a good man.” Asami felt uncomfortable, suddenly, and searched for a different topic of conversation. “Oh, I don’t know if my assistant called you, but New York is a go.”

“She did call me, actually. Though I think it was more so she could ask if she could watch the audition process.”

Asami was going to kill Opal. “I hope you hung up on her.”

Taylor replied with a soft laugh. “Actually, I told her it was entirely up to you.”

“Ooh, poor Opal.” Asami smiled.

“I take it the answer is no?”

Asami shrugged, taking a sip of her champagne before responding. “I’ll likely give in at the last minute. I just like torturing her for as long as possible.”

Taylor regarded her curiously. “You have a strange working relationship.”

“She’s a good friend. A good friend that likes to drive me nuts any chance she gets. It’s worse now that she’s dating my best friend. The two of them are ruthless.”

The director laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

“I suppose it is,” Asami admitted.

“Anyway, I’m setting you up at the Plaza. Opal said that was usually your hotel of choice. I’ll be staying there too. Is that okay?”

“That you’re staying there too?”

“Um... well, I meant the hotel choice, actually ... but if my staying there presents a problem...”

Asami realized the director was serious. “It’s all fine. I was just teasing.”

Taylor wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to assume you’d be okay with everything.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that picky.”

“I sincerely doubt that’s true,” Taylor said with a laugh. “Your assistant did lay a long list of demands at my feet.”

Asami was nodding. “Yeah, those are for her. Evian water in a martini glass with a twist of lemon and half an orange?”

Taylor grinned. “That was number eleven.”

“Yeah, I’m going to kill her.” Asami finished off her drink.

“I could always set her up at the Plaza and you at the nearest motel.”

“Hm. As delightful as that sounds, I think I’ll just rough it at the Plaza.”

“How very brave of you.”

Asami smiled, but worried that their conversation was inching ever closer toward awkward silence.

“I was actually about to leave right before I came to say hi to you. Can I offer you a ride home?”

Asami regarded the director, thinking it a kind offer. “Thanks, that’s nice of you. I actually have my limo outside. I had the chauffeur drop Nobu off at the hospital and come back.”

“Right.” Taylor nodded as if she’d been stupid to think differently. “Well, it was very nice running into you, Asami. I guess I’ll see you in New York next week. I’ll email Opal all of the details tomorrow so you have them.”

Asami smiled, feeling a mixture of disappointment and relief at the director’s departure. She started to watch Taylor leave, then looked away.

She put the empty glass on a passing tray, placed a call to her chauffeur, and made her rounds of goodbyes to the people that mattered. She smiled charmingly at each of them, repeating their names so they knew she remembered; to feed the illusion that they were all friends, and that they all mattered to one another.

Outside, she found her chauffeur waiting faithfully for her return, and she smiled at him as he straightened himself up and approached the door to open it. She ignored the flashes of ever-present cameras, the voices calling out her name in a desperate attempt to catch a good picture.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening, Ms. Sato.” His voice sounded far away in the noise that surrounded them.

“I did, thank you, Samuel.” She slid into the plush leather seating and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her.

She watched the flashes of light continue as someone else emerged from the restaurant.

Already, she lay forgotten in their minds, replaced by the next potential photograph. She had chosen this life, she reminded herself. She had positioned herself as the object of fleeting interest and passing attentions. Without ever coming out, she still risked losing it all eventually; in a week, in a month, in a decade.

There would come a time, perhaps soon, when the cameras wouldn’t point in her direction, when the voices wouldn’t remember her name. There would come a time when she would think back on moments like this and she’d ask herself, what had she gained from it all? What had it all been for?

***

“I wonder what she looks like,” Korra found herself saying. She dug her spoon into the carton of ice cream and scooped up a huge chunk of cookies ‘n cream, which managed, despite gravity, to land in her mouth without consequence.

Kuvira was in the living room, surrounded by all of Korra’s art. Korra had placed her best friend in charge of choosing the pieces for the art show since she, herself, was incapable of making such a decision. “What who looks likes?”

“Sami,” Korra said. “All I know is she has black hair and green eyes. I keep picturing her short. A little chubby, maybe. It’s so weird being friends with someone and not knowing what they look like. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what she does for a living. Maybe it’s something bad. Maybe she’s a drug dealer.”

“I like this one,” Kuvira said, holding up a canvas.

Korra glanced in her direction, noting that the painting Kuvira had chosen was the one she’d made for Sami. “I’m not sure I want to display that one.”

“Why not? I think it’s great.”

Korra shrugged. Why not, indeed. It was silly to keep it as a gift for someone whose last name she didn’t even know, and who, come to think of it, hadn’t replied to her email in days. “I asked for her phone number and she didn’t write back. Do you think I freaked her out?”

“I still think she’s a creepy middle-aged bald guy who likes to kill kittens.” She held the painting higher. “Can I put it in the pile?”

“Yeah, sure. Professor Tenzin has last say, anyway.” Korra dropped the now empty spoon into the now empty carton and put her chin on the back of the chair. She watched Kuvira for a moment. “Do you think online friendships are weird?”

“I think friendships in general are weird. I mean, look at us. Who’d think we’d be friends?” Kuvira stepped over the myriad of art on the floor to come sit at the table. “Why, are you having second thoughts about your email buddy?”

Korra shook her head, soft brown hair brushing against her cheek with the movement. She pushed the hair back and out of her face. “No, not really. I guess I’m just having trouble keeping it to the online arena. I want to call her and meet her or something. You know? Make sure she’s real.”

“And not a serial killer.”

Korra smiled. “She’s not a serial killer. And I highly doubt she’s a middle-aged man.” She moved her shoulders as if to shrug and acquiesce to the truth. “But yeah. I mean, I guess I never know for sure, and I don’t really feel comfortable asking her directly.”

“Maybe she works for the FBI or the CIA or one of those secret government organizations.”

“See? That’s the thing. She very well could work as a government spy.”

“Or a terrorist.”

Korra sighed thinking it a depressing subject now and wishing she hadn’t brought it up. The truth was, she missed Sami’s emails, and the weight of their absence confused her. She turned to the scattered pieces of art. “Did you narrow it down?”

“Yup. Did I mention how proud I am of you? Cause I am. I can’t wait for the showing. I’m already making flyers and passing them out at work.”

Korra smiled, her mood brightening with the memory of her upcoming show. “Let’s hope Professor Tenzin likes the rest as much as he liked the one I submitted. He’s such a scary man sometimes. I secretly think he’s a softie though.” She rose and began to collect the artwork.

“Did you tell your lesbian about the art show?”

“She’s not my lesbian. And no, ‘cause she hasn’t written back to me since I asked for her number. For all I know she thinks I’m totally intrusive and doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“I’m sure if she knew you were hot she’d be singing a different tune. Maybe she thinks you’re ugly.”

Korra rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Well, if she’s that weird about things, maybe it’s for the best.”

“Maybe.” She added nothing else to that, feeling no desire to reveal how panicked she felt at the thought of Sami never writing to her again. Korra carried a stack of paintings to her room.

She placed them down on their usual corner and sat on the bed. All day she had busied herself with a long to-do list of chores. She had selected the outfit she would wear on her first day of work; she had sat down to pay the bills; she had written a list of presents to buy the people she knew; she had studied for Art History.

Now, she had run out of steam and things to do and the only thing she could think about was checking her email.

“I’m taking a shower,” Kuvira announced from the doorway. “A couple of guys I know from work are having a get-together at their apartment tonight. Wanna come?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I still have a lot of studying to do.” It was a good excuse, even if it wasn’t exactly the truth. Saying that she simply didn’t feel like going didn’t feel like enough of a reason.

“See you later then.”

Kuvira disappeared into the bathroom and Korra got up to close the door. Alone in her room, Korra stood and looked around. Her bed was disheveled as usual, and she suddenly wished she could get into the habit of making it in the mornings. A made bed always looked nicer, cozier, inviting.

She liked the idea of her room as a place of relaxation, as a place she could go to escape from the world. It could’ve been, maybe, except the heater was partly broken and no matter what she did the room never felt warm enough. The ceiling was stained from occasional leaks. The walls could use a few coats of paint.

It wasn’t a cozy place, not big nor luxurious, but it was home. It was the home she hoped to look back on someday and smile fondly over, while being secretly pleased that she no longer had to live there.

She took her computer and her books and went back out into the living room, depositing everything on the coffee table. She would study after all, she decided, settling down on the couch. She would study because she had to and because she didn’t want to feel like she’d lied to Kuvira. She would study because studying meant she wouldn’t check her email and find herself disappointed to find only junk mail waiting for her there.

***

Asami had never thought of herself as the type of person that might pace around a room.

She had always made decisions in a calm, rational manner, and usually in the company of a nice French wine. Pacing, she had always thought, was for crazy people.

Yet, there she was, burning a path in the carpet of her room from having walked back and forth so many times. She held her cell phone tightly in one hand and Korra’s business card in the other. She had spent the entire morning trying to convince herself that calling Korra was a terrible idea, that they would have nothing to say to one another. They’d fall into awkward silences and then struggle to fill the void with meaningless chit-chat. It would be painful and uncomfortable the whole way through and they would both sigh in relief the second it was all over. Why put them both through that?

She then spent the earlier part of the afternoon convincing herself that maybe that’s exactly what they both needed; to find out that their friendship, however nice on a computer monitor, had no chance of extending beyond it. It was a noble way to end things.

Undoubtedly, the experience would mar the fragile threads of their communication, spreading into their email exchanges and eventually causing the entire thing to self-implode.

It would be mutually painless; an unspoken agreement to walk away with no hard feelings.

Asami began to dial and then hung up before pressing the final number. She couldn’t just call without any warning. What if Korra wasn’t there? What if she was busy and Asami was interrupting?

She looked at the computer, knowing she hadn’t answered Korra’s last email and feeling irrationally guilty over it. “She probably hasn’t even noticed.”

She sighed, sitting at the edge of her bed. She stared at the phone. What excuses would she even give for not writing back? She had been busy, sure, but she could’ve written. She flipped open the phone again and started dialing. She could feel her heart doing summersaults in her chest as she pushed each number. She forced herself to breathe as she pressed the phone to her ear and listened to it ring. “I need to get my head examined.”

“...and what do you need to be friends with a middle-aged man for anyway? Think of the kittens,” said a voice, followed by, “Hello?”

Asami cleared her throat realizing for the first time since dialing the severity of what she was doing. “Hello. Is Korra home?”

“It’s a strong possibility. Whom might I say is calling?”

“It’s... um, Sami...” The name felt awkward on her tongue, having been years since she’d used it.

There was a slight pause. Then, “No fuckin’ way. The lesbian? Really?”

Asami flinched slightly at the term ‘the lesbian’. Korra had told. Of course she had. 

“Look, I’m really glad you called, cause she’s been moping around like--”

From the other end of the line came muffled screaming, and a ruffling kind of sound that culminated with a loud thud. Then there was a different voice on the line, saying, “Hi? Hello?”

The voice gave Asami pause, as she thought for a split second how sweet it sounded. “H-hi, Korra?”

“That’s me. Sorry about Kuvira. She’s heavily medicated.”

“Am not!” Asami heard in the background.

“Well, she should be, anyway,” Korra amended with a short laugh.

Asami could hear a door closing and she wondered if Korra had changed locations. “It’s fine,” she said, trying to find something to say. She hadn’t thought to imagine what Korra’ voice might sound like. She had, on occasion, wondered what Korra looked like, but had never managed to settle on a single image. Her voice, on the other hand, had never entered Asami’s thoughts. “Is this a bad time to be calling?”

“Not at all. I wasn’t doing anything important. Kuvira was just leaving to a party. Hey, how did you get my number?”

“It was on your card.”

“Oh! Right. I forgot you had that. Wow. I can’t believe we’re actually talking on the phone.”

Korra sounded nervous and it gave Asami an odd sense of courage. “I’m sorry about not writing to you this week. I wish I had a good excuse.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not like we have some kind of immediate response rule or something. I think I’m just glad you’re okay. You are okay, right?”

“I’m fine.” Asami smiled at the sound of concern on Korra’s voice. Then wondered why Korra should care at all. “Just tired. I went to a party last night and got home pretty late.”

“Was it fun?”

Asami thought of Taylor briefly. “It ended well enough. I spent most of the time talking to a guy that was trying to impress me by talking about his yacht and mad rock climbing skills.”

The sound of Korra’s laughter made Asami’s heart skip. “Did he finally get the hint that you weren’t interested? Unless yachts and rock climbing are the secret keys to your heart?”

“Hardly. I was mercifully rescued by someone much nicer.”

“Oh?”

Korra sounded intrigued and Asami knew she was inching toward dangerous waters. “Yeah, um... a colleague I guess you could call her.”

There was a brief pause before Korra said, “I’m sorry if this crosses the line for you or anything, but... what is it that you do exactly?”

Asami hesitated. “I’m actually between projects at the moment so... I’m not doing much of anything.” “Oh.”

Asami searched her room for a way out of the conversation. She had no idea how to answer Korra’ questions without putting a big fat lie on the table. She sighed softly. “I have a degree in creative writing with a focus on screenwriting as well as an engineering degree.” It was a random thing to say, but at least it wasn’t a lie. It was a dusty kind of truth, the kind she had stored away beside her occasional dream of being a chef.

“So you’re a writer and an engineer?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling myself that. A wannabe, maybe.” Asami wanted desperately to change the subject. “So, how are your finals going?”

“One more to go and then freedom. Oh! I wanted to tell you, I got selected for that student art show!”

“Congratulations!” Asami felt an inexplicable desire to hug Korra through the phone, to pull her close and bounce around like children. “You must be excited.”

“I don’t have the words, actually,” Korra said with a laugh. “I’ll send you an invitation if you want. I know you can’t make it, being all the way in California...”

“I’d love one,” Asami said. “When is it?”

“It opens next Thursday and runs through the weekend.”

Asami’s mind spun with the realization that she’d be in New York then. “Is it a school thing?”

“Well, sort of. Not really, though. It’s being held at the Hederman Gallery, which is one of the more upscale galleries downtown. The show’s going to be a mixture of well-known contemporary artists and student artists from several Universities in the state. Part of the proceeds from the artwork get donated to art education programs. It’ll probably attract a wide range of people, I think. Last year’s was pretty successful from what I read.”

The thoughts running through Asami’s mind were only the next in an already long line of stupid ideas. “That’s amazing, Korra,” she said. “You completely deserve it.”

“Thanks. I’m still a bit in shock, honestly. I mean, I talk about it, but it hasn’t really hit me yet, you know? Anyway, I’ll write to you afterwards and tell you all about it.”

“I’d like that.” But I wouldn’t miss being there for the world, Asami found herself thinking.

***

Korra held the phone tightly to her ear, afraid to miss anything of what Sami might say. She’d felt Sami’ hesitation in talking about her work. Perhaps Sami shared the same frustration Korra did, that of being unable to transcend the expectations she’d placed upon her art. There was more to it, Korra knew, or thought she knew, but she’d let the subject drop. Maybe someday Sami would feel comfortable opening up about whatever it was. In the meantime, Korra didn’t want to push.

“So tell me about your merciful hero,” Korra said. “She who saved you from the evils of boring conversation.”

Thousands of miles away, Sami laughed, and Korra found that she liked being able to hear the sound so close to her ear.

“I don’t know much about her, honestly. She’s nice as far as I can tell.”

“And... attractive?”

There was that laugh again, nervous and reserved. “Yes, I think she is. What about that guy that your friend set you up with?”

“Adam?” Korra conjured up his memory. “I don’t know him at all.”

“But... attractive?”

Korra smiled. “He has beautiful eyes, actually. And the rest of him isn’t bad.”

“What color are his eyes?”

“Brown.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“Eye color?”

“Sure... or in general.”

Korra ran inventory of all the colors she could think of. “I love ocean blue. I think that’s my favorite color. But I think green eyes are the prettiest. I did say I always wanted green eyes.”

“And green hair.”

“That too.”

“Why didn’t you ever dye it green then?”

“Honestly? I’m not that brave. I fear my hair would fall out at the mere sight of bleach.” The laugh came again, and Korra was pleased to find it lacking in both nervousness and reservation. For the first time since Korra had answered the phone, Sami sounded relaxed.

“But I take it you don’t have that fear?”

“So far, my hair has managed to stay firmly rooted to my head despite all of the horrific things that have been done to it.”

“I hope you didn’t jinx yourself just now.”

“If my hair starts to fall out, I’ll know who to blame.”

“Yourself?”

“Nope. You. I wouldn’t have jinxed myself if you hadn’t asked about my hair.”

Korra grinned. “You wouldn’t have jinxed yourself if you hadn’t been so overly confident and tempted the hair loss gods.”

“Hmph,” came Sami’ reply, and Korra felt an odd surge of affection for this girl she barely knew.

Her cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much. “It’s nice getting to talk to you like this,” Korra found herself saying. She had been nervous about calling Sami, even if it had been her idea. She never imagined that Sami would call her first, or that their conversation wouldn’t feel as awkward as she’d expected it to.

“I thought it would be a lot weirder than it is,” Sami said.

“So you think it’s still somewhat weird?”

“No. Not weird. I guess I’m still a little nervous. Is that stupid?”

Korra smiled briefly. “No, I’m nervous too. It makes sense to be, I think.”

“I guess.”

They fell into silence then, and Korra panicked until she realized that it didn’t feel necessarily uncomfortable. “This call must be costing you a fortune.”

“Nah, weekend minutes.”

“They’re great, aren’t they? I feel like I need to make friends in other states more often just so I can take advantage.”

“You can always start emailing people out of the blue. That seemed to work okay for me.”

“Oh, so you email everyone whose work you like?”

“Yes. Just this morning, I thought the guy who bagged my groceries did an awesome job. I emailed him to tell him so.”

“I’m amazed you found time to call me, then, what with all of the other people you need to flatter.” Korra could tell Sami was smiling and the thought made her heart jump slightly. She suddenly and fervently hated the fact that they lived on opposite sides of the country, and that neither had any way of knowing if they would ever get to meet.

“Korra?”

“I’m here, I’m sorry. I spaced.”

“Am I boring you?”

“Terribly. What were you talking about? Rock climbing? Yachts?”

“Nope. Hiking. And canoes.”

Korra laughed, feeling, all the while, a mild sense of regret that Sami wasn’t sitting in front of her at that moment. It seemed like a trivial desire, the need to see someone when talking to them, but it felt strong. She wondered if Sami had similar thoughts, or if she was content for Korra to remain a series of typed letters on a computer screen; a voice at the other end of the phone.

“Are you spacing again?”

“I am. I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired.”

“I shouldn’t have called so late. I forgot about the time difference.”

Korra glanced at the clock. It was barely ten. “It’s not late at all. I’ve just been up late studying and waking up early and I think the lack of sleep has turned my brain to mush.”

“Get some sleep then. It was really nice talking to you.”

“Thanks for calling,” Korra said, somewhat disappointed to see the end of the conversation. “Maybe I can return the favor sometime.”

“I’ll email you my number.”

Korra smiled at that. “Okay. Have a good rest of your day, Sami.”

“Good night, Korra.”

Korra clicked off the phone and stared up at the ceiling from her place on the bed. A print of Lucas van Valckenborch’s Autumn stared down at her. Another gift from Mako she intended to keep. He’d brought it back from one of his family trips to Paris. It had always been one of her favorite paintings.

The thought of Paris drew her back to Sami and she smiled at the sound of the voice still resounding in her ear. Sami had a nice voice, Korra decided. It was decidedly not a middle-aged man’s.

She dragged her laptop from its place at the foot of her bed and opened it. She found the invitation the professor had emailed her the evening before and saved it. Opening a fresh email, she attached the file.

To: Sami T.

From: Korra 

Subject: You are cordially invited...

_ Here’s the invitation I promised. I really wish you didn’t live so far so you could come. :) _

_ Your friend, _

_ Korra _

_ P.S. I really enjoyed our phone conversation. I’m really sorry for being so spacey. _

***

Asami stared at the phone for a long time after hanging up. With Korra it always felt as if she were living a different version of her life; the one that might’ve, could’ve been had she picked a different path. It was easy to imagine the other side of the coin; the life without fame, if not fortune. It was easy to pretend that Sami Taso was still a living, breathing human being, instead of a memory; instead of the idea of the person she could have been.

If she had lived that life, if she had risen each morning and gone outside, blended into the crowd, lived just as Sami Taso, heiress to a family fortune, sure, but nothing special beyond that; if that had been her life, would she be happy? Would she have found fulfillment in being ordinary? Had she met Korra then, in that other life, would she have felt it okay to reveal every minute detail of her life, every pointless thought, every dream, without fear of consequence?

Asami stared at the phone and recognized at once that a situation, already complex, had become something more. Now, beyond the faceless words on a computer screen was a voice; a person.

A very sweet person, Asami thought, tossing the phone on the nightstand. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling above her, at the white ridges of paint that hung like upside-down mountains on a snow-covered field. She listened to the ocean, to the wind, to the sound of raindrops on the windows. A minute passed, then two; and she felt, for the briefest of moments, a deep pang of regret; a longing for a different life.

But it passed as quickly as it had come; returned to the realm of unwelcome emotions and left her alone to think about Korra’s voice; and how wonderful it had felt to make her laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re adorable. 
> 
> P.S. it’s about to get interesting ;)
> 
> P.P.S. This election is driving me insane. How are y’all doing?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Opal examined the printed piece of paper in her hand for the longest time, reading through it several times in case she had missed something. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at Asami. “You want me to do what?”

“I want you to find a reason for me to be there,” Asami said. “Find me a charity, a cause, whatever. Just let them know I’m coming. Oh, and tell my publicist. I wouldn’t mind some press at this event.”

Opal looked back down at the invitation. Since when had Asami cared about art? When was the last time she’d gone out of her way to be anywhere? “Is this about the artist?”

“Yes,” Asami said, looking up from the suitcase on the bed. “Yes, it’s about the artist. Okay?” 

Opal stared at the actress, unsure of what to say next. She placed the invitation in her portfolio and nodded. “I’ll get it done.”

“Thanks.” Asami returned to her packing, surveying the items piled up on the bed and running a mental check-list of the things still left unclaimed. “I hate packing.”

“I know you do. You should hire a professional packer.”

Asami paused to look at Opal. “Do they have those?”

“I’m sure they do. You want me to look into it for you?”

Asami made a face. “No. I think that would be a little excessive.”

“So, is that all for now? I have about eight billion errands to run before we leave tonight.”

Asami smiled. “You should hire an assistant to do all of that.”

“Maybe someday,” Opal said, with a laugh. “Bolin and I are working on a screenplay together.”

Asami looked back at her, surprised. “Seriously? He’s taken you into the dark side with him, then? What was it he said his next project was about; the trials and tribulations of fruit?”

Opal laughed. “Yeah, he’s still working on that, actually. Something about life as an apple. I haven’t been able to talk him out of it. Ours is more of a social commentary about... well, we’ll let you read it when it’s done. So far it’s just a bunch of chicken scratch.”

“Good luck with that.” She meant it, even if she was in no hurry to lose Opal to the outside world. Opal, like everyone else in Hollywood, had dreams that transcended the everyday routine of the nine-to-five job. It had been part of the reason, Asami knew, why she’d become Asami’s assistant in the first place.

“Thanks,” Opal said as she moved toward the door. On the doorway, she stopped and turned around. “Asami, if you want to talk...”

“About?”

“Anything...”

Asami looked at her assistant, saw the genuine concern and interest radiating from her eyes. “Korra will have her work in an art show. I want to be there.”

“But she won’t know it’s you.”

Asami shrugged. “I’ll know it’s me.”

“I bet that would be nerve-wracking, seeing her in person.”

There were scarier things, Asami thought, but she honestly couldn’t think of any. She smiled. “It’s going to be terrifying.”

Opal offered a sympathetic smile, then looked serious again. “I know you’re going to hate me for asking this but... do you have feelings for her?”

“I admire her artistic talent,” Asami said naturally, easily, as if it were the simplest of truths. “I feel that if I were anyone else in the world instead of who I am, we’d be great friends.”

“What’s stopping you from being her friend anyway? You’re a great person, Asami. She’d see that no matter what.”

Asami stifled the impulse to sigh. “Thanks, but we both know it doesn’t work that way. Once she knows who I am, she won’t see me the same way. Asami Sato isn’t someone to befriend. She’s someone to ask for an autograph, she’s a picture to hang on a wall. She’s someone to envy for her air-brushed perfection and Hollywood life. She’s as fictional as the characters she plays.” She shrugged, feeling depressed. “I’m just the person that plays her. Nothing more.”

To Asami’s surprise, Opal smiled. “You have feelings for her.”

She did sigh this time. “Opal...”

“Relax, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you’re in love with her or anything as dramatic as that. But you care. You care enough to go to the art show, and you care enough to worry whether or not she’d recognize your voice on the phone. Hell, you even cared enough to wonder whether or not she’d still like you if she knew you were gay. Did you ever tell her, by the way?”

Asami didn’t answer. She simply tossed a shirt into the suitcase and ignored the smile on Opal’s face.

“How did she take it?”

“She took it fine.”

“You know, you’re allowed to care about people, Asami. You’re allowed to make friends. It’s not like you’re made of stone.”

I wish I was, sometimes, Asami thought to herself. Things would be easier. “Didn’t you have errands to run?”

Opal let out a sound that closely resembled a motherly sigh. The kind of sound reserved for moments when words could not express the appropriate levels of frustration. “I do. See you tonight.”

Asami listened to the retreating footsteps and the sound of the front door opening and closing. For a long time, she stared at the empty spaces in the suitcase. She wanted, at that moment, nothing more than to call Korra again. To tell her she was packing for a trip to New York. That she’d be at the art show on Thursday. That maybe, afterwards, they could go out for coffee and talk about how weird it was that they were both there, in the same place, instead of thousands of miles apart.

She couldn’t call and say that, so she didn’t call at all. Instead she moved around the room, collecting the vital pieces of her life that would follow her to New York.

***

“Black or blue?” Korra held each garment up to her chest.

“The event runs several days,” Kuvira said by way of an answer, meanwhile shoveling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“Yeah, but opening night is special. I mean, I’ll still be excited on Friday and Saturday and Sunday, but nothing will equal Thursday night. It has to be the right dress.”

Kuvira nodded in understanding. “Then I guess it depends what you’re going for.” 

“Well, I want to look good; professional, but artistic. I want to convey class, while still reserving the right to look creative. But not too creative. Not like I’m trying too hard. I don’t want something that says, ‘Hey, I’m an artist, and here are my clothes to prove it’. You know?”

Kuvira dropped the spoon in the bowl and regarded each dress in turn with what looked to be serious contemplation. “Definitely the black.”

Korra looked at the dress. “You think?”

“Yeah. It shows more cleavage.”

Korra nodded. “Okay, the blue it is. Thanks.”

“Any time. Hey, I’m going on that date with James tonight so don’t worry when I don’t come home.”

“The porn star? I thought you already went out with him?”

“No, we spoke on the phone. He had to cancel our plans for Friday so we moved them for tonight. It meant taking the night off from work but since I’m fully expecting the best sex of my life, I figure it’s worth it.”

“Okay, then.”

“Speaking of sex, how was the phone conversation with your lesbian?”

“She’s not my lesbian.” Korra hung the dresses in the living room closet and frowned at her friend. “And what does my phone conversation have to do with sex?”

“Did you have phone sex?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I guess nothing. How did it go? She sounded rather young and feminine for a bald, middle-aged kitten killer.”

Korra smiled, deciding to ignore Kuvira’s comment. “It went really well. She’s every bit as nice as she seemed online.”

“Have you exchanged pictures yet?”

“No.”

Kuvira was nodding. “She’s probably fug.”

“What does it matter what she looks like?”

Kuvira shrugged. “It doesn’t, I guess. What’s the point, though? Of talking to her, I mean. What can you tell her that you can’t tell me?”

Korra shrugged and sat down at the table. “It’s not really about that. You have tons of friends besides me.”

“I have people I go out with to drink and have fun with sometimes. It’s not like we talk about deep and meaningful things. I don’t tell them the things I tell you. But you and her... all you do is exchange personal narrative. What for? Doesn’t it get redundant?”

Korra thought about it, trying to decide why talking to Sami seemed so much different than talking to Kuvira. “You’re very different people. I like getting her perspective on things. It’s not better than yours or anything. It’s just different. Besides, I find her interesting. And she’s funny.”

“I’m funny.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

Kuvira shrugged.

“And she’s funny in a different way.”

“What way is that?”

“I don’t know. She’s ... witty, I guess.”

“I’m not witty?”

“Kuvira, you’re still the funniest person I know. I don’t have an exact definition for what you are.”

Kuvira seemed pleased by that. “So she’s witty.”

“Yeah... I think she is, anyway.” Korra regarded Kuvira curiously. “Why all the questions?”

“I read somewhere that people surround themselves with those that fulfill a basic need in them. I was wondering what need Sami was fulfilling for you.”

Korra thought about it and sat back. “Guess I really needed a long distance friendship with a lesbian.”

Kuvira laughed. “Guess so.”

***

New York, Asami thought, looking up at the skyscrapers from the window of the limousine.

Here she was again.

“...when I get to the hotel,” Opal was saying into her phone. “I miss you too... aww... really?...”

Asami tuned her out, concentrating instead on the sights outside. Korra was out there somewhere, she realized, watching the crowds of people pass by in clumps of blurry faces.

She might have already passed her and never known it. Korra was out there, somewhere, eating dinner, planning for her art show, living her life. And Asami was here, moving slowly along in New York City traffic, watching the world, living her life.

“Bolin’s flying up tomorrow,” Opal said suddenly, and Asami turned her head to find Opal smiling brightly.

“Why?”

“He said it’s because he finds New York inspiring, but I strongly suspect he misses the sex. Or me. Or both. Hopefully both.”

“All fine reasons.” Asami turned her attention back to the window.

“Taylor’s meeting you for drinks at the hotel bar at nine thirty.”

“I remember,” Asami said. She had been looking forward to the distraction since Opal had first mentioned it. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“Room service,” Opal answered simply. “And calling Bolin. And maybe a really long bath. Not sure which will come first.”

It sounded like a pleasant way to spend an evening, Asami thought, as the hotel came into view. Her own plans were equally simple in nature: check her email, take a shower, meet with the director, check her email again.

She wondered what Korra’s plans were like. Did they involve checking her email as well? Asami tried to imagine Korra, sitting at a computer somewhere, typing. She still couldn’t quite picture her. The Korra in her mind was as blurry and undefined as the people on the sidewalk.

Opal was back on the phone, introducing herself to whomever was on the other end of the line. “Please tell the manager that Asami Sato has arrived.”

***

“Have you heard from Mako?” Korra’s mother asked, her voice rising slightly over the noise of water falling into the kitchen sink.

Korra finished drying a plate and put it in the cupboard. “No.”

“Mako was a good boy. You shouldn’t have let him go. A boy like that, with all of that money and all of that intelligence... he would have done right by you.”

Korra grabbed another plate. “He was cheating on me, mom.”

“Men cheat,” her mother said, matter-of-factly. “You shouldn’t have let Mako go.”

Korra took a deep breath, but didn’t answer. She waited until a moment had passed, and then another. “I spoke to Tara earlier.”

Senna paused in her actions, only briefly, before continuing. “I don’t care to hear about that girl. That thing she has, that sickness... that’s not from your Dad’s side of the family, nor mine. I don’t know where she got it.” She rinsed another plate. “You shouldn’t be talking to her.”

Korra sighed softly, feeling something in her break. “She’s doing well,” she said anyway. “I know you don’t care and maybe Dad doesn’t care either but... well, now you know.”

Senna didn’t say anything. The two of them fell into silence as the water continued to run.

“Will you be coming to my art showing at the gallery?” Korra ventured. It had been the reason she’d called and agreed to dinner.

Senna turned to her and smiled. She dried her hands on her apron and touched Korra’s hair. “Of course, sweetheart. You think I would miss my baby’s big moment? Not for the world.”

Korra felt the sudden sting of tears at her eyes and she quickly turned away so her mother wouldn’t see. All evening she had feared asking, certain that what she considered to be a great achievement would be viewed by her family as a trivial matter; something to nod at and dismiss. “Thursday is the opening night,” she said, putting another dry plate away. “You should come then.”

Her mother returned to the dishes. “Are you bringing a date?”

Korra frowned at the question. “I hadn’t thought about it.” She thought of Adam and the card in her pocket. He was an artist. Maybe he’d want to come. “But there’s someone I can ask.”

***

Asami ordered a martini when the waiter came around. It had been a spur of the moment decision, the kind of choice she felt stupid about immediately after making it. She hated martinis; she was well aware of that fact. But as she’d looked at the list of drinks, she’d been overcome by the need to choose something different.

“Did you have a nice flight?” Taylor was looking at her, her attention so focused that Asami thought, for a brief instant, that she’d been asked something more important.

“I did, thank you.” This wasn’t a date, Asami reminded herself, no matter how many outfits she’d gone through before finally walking out of the hotel room. She blamed Opal.

Asami hadn’t needed to know that Taylor was gay; it was superfluous information. And now it was all Asami could think about. Here they were, the two of them, sitting across from each other in a bar, soon to be having drinks over what would (eventually) become professional conversation, and all Asami could do was wonder whether or not Taylor found her attractive.

“I hate flying,” Taylor was saying.

“Really? I find it kind of relaxing.”

Taylor offered a half-smile. “Really? I envy people like you. I spend the entire flight gripping the armrests, convinced that every little sound is the engine giving out. Sometimes I even glance out to make sure the wings are still attached.”

Asami laughed. “I don’t know. I guess I always feel free up there. Like things are out of my control and I have nothing to worry about.”

“Except the engine giving out.”

She smiled because she couldn’t help it. “Yeah... well, I didn’t worry about that before, but I probably will now. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The waiter arrived with their order, and Asami was grateful for the interruption. The glass in front of her gave her something to look at besides Taylor’s smile. She felt nervous and self-conscious around the director, as though Taylor might guess the truth about Asami simply by looking at her.

She forced herself not to think about it. Instead, she sipped and listened to the low rumble of undecipherable conversations, of inconsequential moments that hid the passing of time.

She let the sound settle over them.

“How’s your drink?”

Asami glanced down at the martini glass and then back up at Taylor. “It’s disgusting, actually.” She laughed, feeling embarrassed for having ordered it in the first place. “It’s not what I usually order.”

“What made you get it?”

What indeed. “I guess I was in the mood for something different.” Asami shrugged slightly, feeling uncomfortable and on the spot, as if the act of ordering a drink she didn’t like said something about who she was as a person.

Taylor only smiled, looking amused. “Want to try mine? I haven’t drunk from it yet.” She pushed her glass toward Asami.

Surprised, Asami looked up and caught Taylor’s gaze. She had to remind herself once again that this wasn’t a date, that Taylor was simply being nice to her because she was Asami Sato and no other reason than that. “What is it?”

“Gin and tonic. If you like it, I’ll trade you. Martinis are actually my favorite.”

Asami arched a questioning brow. “Huh. Why did you order a gin and tonic then?”

Taylor looked embarrassed. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

“Well... okay. I was reading Life, the Universe and Everything on the flight here and in it one of the characters goes temporarily insane in pre-historic Earth and spends a few weeks jumping in and out of a gin and tonic. Well, it’s a small lake, really but... anyway, it was on my mind when I ordered.” She paused. “You probably think I’m insane.”

“Ford,” Asami said, remembering. “You can’t go wrong with Douglas Adams.”

Taylor looked pleasantly surprised. “You’ve read it?”

“I did. A long time ago.” Asami glanced down at the offered drink and picked it up. She took a sip, enjoying the bitter but pleasant taste of it. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a gin and tonic, but it was rare to find it mixed properly. After a moment, she pushed the martini in Taylor’s direction, thinking, as she watched the glass slide across the table, how much like a date this felt despite it not being one. “It’s all yours.”

Taylor accepted the drink, smiling gratefully. “That worked out well, then. What do you usually order?”

“Vodka and cranberry juice.”

“I’ll have to try that sometime.” Taylor tasted the drink, then put it down on the table. “So, you’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”

“You mean it wasn’t just to steal my drink?”

Taylor laughed. “That was merely a bonus. I got a call yesterday about a big audition event going on next week. Seems like a group of semi-professional actors will be auditioning before a large panel of directors from different theater companies, and I thought we could check it out.”

Asami picked up her drink again. “’We’ as in you and me?”

“I’m dragging Ella Peters along, she’s one of the producers, but I was hoping, since you’d be in town, that you’d be able to join us.”

“For the purpose of...?”

“Providing a third opinion?” Taylor seemed to sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, Ella is a great person and she’s really gone on a limb for me with this film, but we’ve hit a bit of a brick wall in terms of casting. She’s insisting on big name actors all the way, while I believe there’s nothing wrong with finding new talent.”

“I take it I’m where you made a compromise?”

Taylor smiled. “Like I told you before, Asami, I wrote that role with you in mind. I just don’t want to leave certain venues unexplored simply because it might yield actors who lack notoriety. I know this might sound incredibly naïve to you, but honestly, I just want to make sure I have the right cast, not just one that’s box office friendly.”

Naïve or not, Asami found Taylor intriguing. It was rare to find people in the business still untainted by fame and fortune. It made Asami wonder how long, in Taylor’s case, it might last. “And what makes you think I don’t agree with your producer?”

“Just a feeling...” Taylor looked embarrassed again. “You probably think it’s terribly arrogant of me to make assumptions about you when we’ve only just met...” She sighed. “And it is. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I sort of expect people to assume things about me, which I guess makes me more arrogant than you.” She smiled. “Anyway, I’m not saying I agree with your producer, but it’s true that using new talent is riskier in a film like this.”

“’Like this’. A gay film, you mean?”

Asami didn’t say anything, afraid she had offended the director without meaning to.

But Taylor was nodding. “No, it’s okay. You can say it. Believe me, I’ve heard it all before, numerous times, and this from the people on my side. And you’re all correct.” She paused to take a drink. She shrugged as she put the glass back on the table. “Maybe I should just agree to an all-star cast and stop trying to swim upstream.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to give in so easily.”

Taylor looked up and caught Asami’s gaze. “Now who’s making assumptions?”

Asami laughed. “I do recall you once telling me that you’re nothing if not stubborn.”

“Well, you’ve got me there.”

Taylor’s smile was disarming, Asami thought. She wondered if others thought the same or if she had simply reached a new level of desperation. “Count me in.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The audition event. Count me in.”

Taylor smiled again, and Asami decided to simply enjoy the view.

****

The lights were on when Korra opened the door to her apartment and she was momentarily irritated with Kuvira for leaving them on, but irritation soon gave way to alarm as Korra realized that she wasn’t alone. Suddenly panicked at the thought of an intruder, she began to backtrack out of the apartment with the full intention of phoning the police the second she was outside.

She was in the process of shutting the door when a voice stopped her.

“Oh good, you’re home.”

It was Kuvira.

Korra pushed the door open and stared at her roommate from across the entryway. “You scared me half to death. I thought you were gone for the night!”

“Why are you yelling? It’s not my fault you’re a paranoid freak.”

Korra sighed and stepped inside. She closed the door and brushed past Kuvira on her way to her bedroom.

Kuvira trailed behind her. “Don’t you wanna know what happened?”

“He cancelled.”

“I wish.”

“His penis fell off from the sheer weight of it.”

Kuvira snorted. “One more guess.” She leaned against the doorframe to Korra’s room. “Actually, never mind. You’ll never guess this.” She walked in and plopped down on the bed. “Mr. Porn star, it turns out, doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”

Korra paused in the process of taking off her messenger bag. “What?”

“Exactly. That’s exactly what I said. Only I cushioned it with a lot more foul language.”

Korra had to laugh. “But he sleeps with women for money.”

“Apparently that falls within his religious and moral boundaries. But sex for free? No. God would frown upon that.”

“Go figure.” Korra joined Kuvira on the bed. “So it’s over then?”

Kuvira frowned. “No, I’m seeing him on Thursday. He’s coming to your shindig. Speaking of, what did the parentals say?”

Korra smiled brightly. “They’re coming. Mom actually seemed... proud.”

Kuvira arched an eyebrow. “Is it a full moon or something?”

“I wonder. That would explain a lot.”

“And your lesbian? How’s she doing?”

Korra sighed. “Will you quit calling her that? She has a name.”

“Fine. Your Sami. How’s she doing?”

Korra gave up. “I don’t know. I’ll check my mail before I go to bed.” She bit her lip. “So... I was thinking of asking Adam if he’d like to come with me on Thursday.”

Kuvira gasped. “As your date?”

“Do you think that would be too weird?”

“Are you kidding? It’ll make his day. Boy’s been bugging me to go out with you for ages. He thinks you’re the hottest thing since that guy from Prison Break.”

Korra frowned. “I’m not sure that example works very well.”

“Oh, he’s bi. Didn’t I tell you?”

“What?”

Kuvira let out a long laugh. “I kid. Well, I think I kid. Who knows these days? Besides, you’re all with the pride lately. First your sister, then your lesbian. A bisexual boyfriend would complete the set. I could probably find you one.”

“How is it that you can take a perfectly normal conversation and steer it into something else entirely?”

“Years of practice. How am I doing?”

“Impressively well.”

“Super. And now I’ve run out of people to ask you about, so I’m going back to my room to blast mood- appropriate music. What goes well with my-porn-starring-boyfriend-won’t-have-sex-before-marriage?”

“Sarah McLachlan?”

“I like to save her for the truly dark days. This just borders on the ridiculous.”

“Weird Al?”

“Done.” Kuvira started to rise. “Any other pressing subject matters you’d like to discuss before I retreat into my cave?”

“Did you just call the porn guy your boyfriend?”

Kuvira froze. “Did I? Maybe I should blast some Sarah after all. What is wrong with me? Just pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Got it. Enjoy your Weird Al in bliss.”

Kuvira waved and closed the door on her way out.

Alone with her thoughts, Korra studied the bedroom quietly. She wanted to call Adam and get the asking over with, but it felt somewhat late for a phone call. She hadn’t yet rehearsed the dialogue either. It wasn’t the sort of thing she could just improvise, even though she was sure lots of people would’ve done just that. Kuvira, for example, wouldn’t have hesitated in picking up the phone. But I’m not Kuvira, Korra thought, feeling both regretful and relieved by the reminder.

Instead of the phone, she reached for the computer and turned it on, having decided to prolong not having the conversation with Adam until the last possible moment. She wasn’t altogether sure she even wanted to bring a date, though the thought of introducing her parents to someone other than Mako was appealing. Perhaps it would help them get over her ex-boyfriend if they saw her moving on.

“Who am I kidding?” she asked the monitor. “Going for a starving New York artist after dating a rich lawyer-to-be would be a disaster.” In response, the computer welcomed her to Windows.

Her inbox proved disappointingly devoid of news from Sami, and Korra couldn’t remember whose turn it was to reply. Deciding it didn’t really matter, she opened a new message.

To: Sami T.

From: Korra D.

Subject: Just saying hi

_ Dear Sami, _

_ I couldn’t remember whose turn it was to reply and I’m too lazy to check my message archives, so I’m taking the initiative. _

_ I just got back from a rather surprising (though pleasantly so) evening with my parents. I went with the intention of finding out whether or not they were planning to come to the gallery, and my mom said of course; that they wouldn’t miss it. _

_ You’re probably thinking, “Well of course she would say that. What mother wouldn’t?” But my parents have always been against my wanting to be an artist (or, rather, choosing it as a career path). They say they envision me living under a bridge somewhere. _

_ You probably think I’m exaggerating, but trust me, I’m not. _

_ I’m not entirely sure what’s prompted their sudden support. Perhaps it’s their guilt over the current situation with Tara (my sister). I tried bringing her up and my mom said she didn’t want to hear about her. I told her that she was doing well. I hope she relays the message to my Dad. No matter what, Tara is still his daughter; he has to care. _

_ It seems wrong somehow to feel so glad to have my parents’ support at a time when Tara has only their contempt, but I can’t help but be excited. I keep thinking if only I can get them all there at the same time. If only my parents can see that Tara is still Tara... _

_ Well, it’s probably silly of me to think I can fix things simply by tossing them into the same place at the same time. I just hate seeing my family like this. Split apart by something so... _

_ I want to say trivial, but it isn’t that either. _

_ You’re probably sick of me talking about this, so I’ll change the subject. _

_ I’m thinking (read: strongly considering while possibly drunk or at least highly medicated) of asking Adam (that guy I mentioned before) to be my date to the gallery on Thursday. Of course, thinking about it is a lot easier than actually doing it. Doing it involves picking up the phone and dialing numbers and waiting for the other party to pick up the phone and inserting random chit chat in order to build courage to actually ask what I wanted to ask in the first place... and then of course, there’s the question of whether or not I’d even go through with it. And if I did, that would mean facing the moment of possible rejection, followed by the awkwardness and embarrassment and the urgent need to get off the phone as quickly as possible. _

_ I’m not even sure why I’d even want to bring a date, other than my mom brought up the subject and I feel that showing up with a new guy is better than showing up with no guy at all. _

_ But I also don’t want to give Adam the impression that I’m ready to start dating him or anything. How do you convey: ‘I am asking you out but I don’t want to date you’ in a clear-but-non-offensive way? There should really be a series of universally known cues for that sort of message. People should be forced to undergo Dating 101 in high school instead of being thrown to the wolves and having to go around pretending they know what the hell they’re doing when they don’t. _

_ Hmm, I think I’m starting to sound like you a little bit. _

_ What else? Oh. I ended up quitting my job before I really started it. They’d scheduled me to work all four days of the art exhibit and weren’t budging on the matter. I guess I’ll go back to the job hunt next week. _

_ Anyway, enough about me. How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while and I’d love to know what you’re up to. _

_ Until later, _

_ Korra _

“Hey,” Kuvira said suddenly, peering in from the now open door. “Sorry to interrupt your Sapphic love affair.”

Korra’s gaze lingered briefly on her Outbox, waiting for the message to disappear. Then she looked up at Kuvira. “Have we reached the point where we’re past knocking?”

Kuvira let the door swing open, but didn’t enter. “Why, were you doing something naughty?”

Korra only sighed and shut the laptop. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to let you know things are all set with you and Adam for Thursday.”

“What do you mean?”

“I took care of it for you since I knew you’d be too chickenshit to do it yourself.”

“You called him?”

“Contrary to the belief of Internet geeks like you, the telephone is still a perfectly viable form of communication.”

Korra resisted the urge to throw something at her best friend. “What did you say?”

“I told him you wanted to do him after your art thingie on Thursday, but only if he agreed to be your escort for the evening.” At the sight of Korra’ panicked expression, Kuvira quickly added, “Relax, I’m pretty sure he knew I was joking.” She stared to shut the door but paused. “Wear some sexy undies, though, just in case he took me seriously. Oh, and you’re welcome!”

***

It was past eleven when Asami stepped inside the hotel suite. Exhaustion hit her the moment she closed the door, and she leaned back against it, letting out a long breath. She surveyed the room, the large expanse of tastefully decorated walls and carefully chosen furniture. For the first time, she noticed the arrangement of fruits, cheeses, and wine on the table, and the note attached undoubtedly welcoming her, urging her to have a wonderful stay.

She pushed herself forward, kicking off her shoes in the process and falling onto the bed the moment she was close enough. Thoughts of the director danced at the edges of her mind, but were easily replaced by other, more pressing ones.

Images of what Thursday might bring invaded her mind, along with a myriad of questions she couldn’t answer. What would it be like to be in the same place as the artist and not be able to reveal who she was? Would she have the courage to approach Korra, pay her a compliment? Or would she hide, avoiding contact at all costs?

She wanted to believe that she’d be brave enough to talk to Korra, even if it was only as Asami Sato , and not Sami Taso. She wanted to think that she might even, given the chance, make Korra smile, make her, even for just an instant, forget that a famous actress stood before her.

And yet, through the fantasies of what might be, something nagged at her. Something she hadn’t been able to pinpoint but that she knew she wouldn’t like.

Asami’s mind wandered and she forced herself to sit. Despite her exhaustion, she didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t want to go another day without writing back to Korra, especially now, when they were so near to each other.

“So near and yet so far,” Asami mumbled as she went to retrieve the laptop from its case.

The email that awaited Asami when she’d finally managed to log in was a pleasant surprise. She couldn’t remember either whose turn it was to reply, but she had a strong suspicion that it was hers.

She read Korra’s email over a few times, pausing each time at the section about Adam.

Something about it bothered her. After a moment, she clicked the reply button.

To: Korra 

From: Sami T.

Subject: Re: Just saying hi

_ Dear Korra, _

_ First, let me say how glad I am that your parents are being supportive. I imagine that it’s a great feeling for them to share your excitement on this, even if it’s somewhat clouded by the situation with your sister. I don’t think you should feel guilty about feeling happy. _

_ You’ve accomplished a wonderful thing and you should be proud. I don’t know your sister, but from what you’ve told me, I’d like to think that she’d agree with me on that. _

_ You should know by now that I fully agree with you on the Dating 101 idea. Though, I think you’re more advanced than I am in that regard. At least you’re actually considering the possibility of calling someone and asking them out. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that far, which I suppose makes me the biggest 25- year-old loser on the planet. (Feel free to jump in and argue with me on that point at any time, by the way). ;)  _

_ Anyway, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. He sounds like he’d go out with you in a second. And from what I know of you, I think he’d be a fool not to. :) _

_ From my end, things are pretty uneventful. I had a few drinks tonight with She-Who-Saved-Me-From-Boring-Conversation. It wasn’t a date or anything, but it was nice to feel like I was expanding my social circle a bit, even if the outing was mainly work-related, and not a social call at all. I like her. She’s nice and funny, but... I think that’s about as far as I’m willing to go with my feelings on the matter. _

Asami stopped typing, feeling an odd desire to pour out her feelings onto the screen. It was the dangerous part of this anonymous exchange: the lack of visible boundaries, and the alcohol in her system wasn’t helping matters any. Her finger hovered over the backspace button, but didn’t press down. After a moment, she continued typing.

_ I envy that, despite your shyness, you’d still consider the idea of asking someone out. I wish I could do that. I wish I could give someone half a chance before shutting all doors to the possibility of anything. I think my main issue extends from not knowing when people are genuinely interested in me. How do you tell the difference between someone being polite and someone being attracted to you? Is there a way? _

_ The more I tell myself that I am perfectly content being single, the more I recognize that it’s just fear of the alternative. At the same time, I don’t want to just fall for the first gay woman that crosses my path, no matter how nice and funny she is. That’s assuming, of course, that she’d even be remotely interested in me, and so far, she’s not given me any indication that she is. _

_ So, really, I am just babbling for no other reason than I’m partly drunk. _

_ Anyway, enough about my pathetic (lack of a) love life, tell me more about you. Are you nervous about Thursday? I can’t begin to imagine how excited you must be. I’m not sure what the protocol is for wishing an artist good luck – break a paintbrush? Hm. I doubt that’s right. Good luck, all the same. I wish you always the very best. _

_ Take care, _

_ Sami _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🙃


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Isn’t that like the tenth outfit you’ve tried on?” Kuvira asked from the doorway. “Don’t get me wrong, I totally approve of this madness, but it’s very un-you-like.”

Korra contemplated her reflection in the full-length mirror, frowning at the image before turning around. “I’m going insane. I mean, picking an outfit was easy when all I needed was something that said, ‘I’m a sophisticated but modest artist.’ But that was before I knew Adam would be my date, and that my parents would be there. Now I need something else. Now I need something that says, ‘Hey, I’m sexy, but I still don’t want to date you,’ to Adam, and ‘I’m a good Catholic girl,’ to my parents, whilst still conveying the overall artist/sophisticated/modest thing.” She paused to examine the pile of clothes on her bed. “Which of those says that to you?”

Kuvira frowned briefly. “You know outfits can’t talk, right?”

Korra sighed and headed toward the closet, shedding clothes as she went. “Not helping.”

“I wish I had a camcorder to capture this moment.”

“I’m really glad you don’t. Knowing you, you’d probably upload it to YouTube.” Korra slipped her head into another dress, and turned toward the mirror.

Kuvira approached the bed and the mess of clothes. She began sorting through the chaos. She picked a pair of patterned slacks from the pile and threw it at Korra. “There’s your conservative image.” She threw a black turtleneck that Korra knew was a little too tight. “There’s your sexy but off-limits.” She walked to the dresser and chose a pair of earrings and a matching necklace. “And here’s your artistic but sophisticated.”

Korra frowned at the clothing. “How did you do that?”

“Magic. You can borrow my new boots. They’ll go perfectly.”

“I thought you were wearing them?”

“Change of plans. I have a porn star with religious and moral convictions to seduce. It’s all about the boobs and the high heels tonight.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Thanks. I’m off to shower. Are you excited?”

“About you showering? Why, yes, my heart’s aflutter.”

“Har har.”

Korra let out a breath. “My stomach’s been in knots all day.”

“Relax. It’s going to be great. Your artwork is going to be flying off the walls.”

Korra laughed. “At $950 a pop, I don’t think so. I told the guy at the gallery that he was insane to put that price tag, but he said it was a normal amount for that sort of event.”

“He should’ve priced them at $10,000.”

“Heh. Right. Why not a million?”

Kuvira grinned. “I bet someone would buy them.”

“I bet someone would have to be insane.” Korra smiled. “But thanks for the flattering comments. They do help.”

“You are most welcome,” Kuvira said, as she walked away. “But I still think someone would buy them.”

***

“I can’t go,” Asami said suddenly, making both Opal and Bolin look up from their meals.

It had been at the back of her mind for days now, unclear but persistent, and now she knew: she couldn’t go to Korra’s art show. “I can’t go tonight,” she said again.

“Cold feet?” Bolin asked.

“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous,” Opal offered.

“Especially if you have the hots for her.”

Asami glanced up sharply. “I don’t have the hots for her. I barely know her. I just can’t be there.”

“Why?” It was Opal who asked.

Asami put down her fork. “Because the second I step inside that gallery the whole thing will become about me being there. Who’s going to be looking at the artwork when Asami Sato is parading through the halls? I mean, I know it sounds horrifically presumptuous of me, but it’s the truth. It should be Korra’s night.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted, though, to get Korra some free publicity?”

“I did,” Asami said, picking up her fork again. She glanced around the restaurant, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m just worried it won’t turn out that way. I don’t want tonight to be about me. I can’t have that. It’s not right.” She tried to hide her disappointment. She’d wanted to be there; still wanted to. She looked at Opal. “I need a favor.”

“Uh oh,” said Opal.

“Run,” Bolin whispered.

“I need you to go for me.”

Opal sighed. “And just what do you want me to do there?”

“Just one small thing.”

***

Fragments of disjointed conversations hung in the air as Korra moved through the gallery.

She listened only briefly, catching words and phrases that, more often than not, had nothing to do with art. She smiled when smiled at, spoke when spoken to, and dutifully took in other people’s work.

Every now and then she’d pause to look around, hoping to find a familiar face in the myriad of strangers. She stifled a sigh, feeling lonely and out of place on a night when she wanted desperately to belong. Most artists had come with their own clan of admirers. And even the student artists had groups of their own.

Overall, the night was not turning out quite how Korra had imagined. At the edges of her excitement was an undercurrent of awkwardness she hadn’t anticipated. As amazing as it felt to see her artwork on display, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a world in which she’d never feel at home.

“Hey, are you Korra?”

Korra’s heart sped up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. She spun around and faced the girl standing there. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to tell you that all of your paintings have been sold.”

Korra was certain she’d heard incorrectly. “I’m sorry?”

“Someone came in and bought them all,” the girl explained, somewhat impatiently. She brushed strands of blonde hair from her eyes. “I’m on my way to mark them.” She held up a pack of red circular stickers. “Thought you’d want to know.”

“But... who?”

The girl shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the higher ups. I am just the sticker girl.” With that she turned away.

Korra stood in stunned silence until a familiar voice caught her attention.

“There you are. Thank God. Did you hear about the subway mess? One of the trains lost power and they’ve been stuck down there for like an hour and a half. So glad I took a cab. It’s positively pouring out there, too. How’s it going here?”

“Apparently all my artwork sold,” Korra said, still not quite believing it.

“I so knew it would,” Kuvira said, looking smug. “I’m so proud of you. I should get your autograph now before you get so famous you don’t remember my name.”

“As if you’d ever let me forget it.”

“Heh, ain’t that the truth. So, who bought it?” Kuvira looked around. “Is he tall? Rich? Good-looking? You should marry whoever it was. It’d make a great tale to tell the grandkids.”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Speaking of tall, dark and handsome, where’s Adam?”

Korra shrugged. “He left me a message saying he’d meet me here.”

“Hope he’s not stuck in that subway mess like James is. Idiot decided to take the subway and got himself stuck. Can’t say he didn’t have it coming, though. Karma’s a bitch.”

“He’s getting punished for not sleeping with you by getting stuck on a train?”

“God works in mysterious ways, my friend.”

“Since when do you believe in God?”

“Since She started being on my side. That’s the kind of God I can roll with.”

Korra decided to drop the subject before they got struck by lightning. “Tara and Megan aren’t here either. I hope they’re all okay.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much.” She grabbed a flute of champagne as a tray passed by. “Free food and drinks. Sweet. You need to land some more of these gigs. A girl could get used to this kind of luxury. Speaking of which, did you happen to catch sight of that huge limo parked outside?” She looked around. “Who do you think it belongs to?”

Korra hadn’t noticed, nor did she care. “Who knows? I’m still trying to figure out who might’ve bought my artwork so I can thank them.”

“Hm.” Kuvira sipped her drink as her gaze wandered around the room. She elbowed Korra and motioned with her chin. “What about that guy? He looks like he’d blow some cash on your paintings.”

Korra followed Kuvira’s gaze to the balding middle-aged man in a pinstriped suit standing near the back exit. He caught her gaze and winked in her direction. Korra instantly turned away. “You know, come to think of it, maybe I don’t want to know.” She thought of the painting she’d intended for Sami and felt depressed at the thought of someone else having it. She’d never have displayed it if she’d thought it would sell.

“We’ll have to celebrate after this,” Kuvira was saying. “We should invite Megan and Tara. Make it a triple date.”

Kuvira continued on to list a number of places they could go, but Korra stopped listening. They were standing near the front windows, and she glanced outside. The rain had stopped, but drops of water still rolled down the glass. As much as she wanted to relax and have fun, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of detachment. All night she had been unable to shake the feeling that something was missing.

“Stop looking so fucking emo,” Kuvira said suddenly. “This is a happy night. Let’s go mingle. Oh and at some point, I want to stand in front of your artwork and stare at it until someone comes around so that I can break down in tears and proclaim it the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“And why?”

“Because I correctly anticipated how dull this place would be. A girl needs to make her own fun. We can always stand in a corner and make out when your parents get here. That’ll surely take the heat off of Tara. I’ll definitely need a few more glasses of champagne but if you’re game...”

“Yes, definitely. Let’s do that.”

“Really?”

“No chance in hell. I’d be up for chasing down the lady with the cheese tray, though.”

“You’re on.”

***

Asami was glad when the rain eased up. She’d been watching the front of the gallery from the backseat of the limo, studying all the people that came and went, wondering if she’d somehow recognize Korra. Despite herself and all of the warnings in her head, Asami wanted to see her. She wanted to push open the door and walk right into the gallery. She wanted to find Korra, pull her aside, and tell her everything. She wanted things to be different. She wanted things to stay the same. She wanted too many things that could never be.

She pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat and let her head fall back against the seat.

“No one’s stopping you from going in there,” Bolin said, breaking the silence. He sat across from her, eyes closed, listening to his iPod.

“I’m stopping me.”

Bolin opened his eyes and removed the headphones. He smiled softly. “I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love over the Internet.”

“I’m not in love.”

“Then why are you so scared of seeing what she looks like?”

Asami glanced at him. “What makes you think that I am?”

“You mean you’re not the least bit worried about being attracted to her?”

Asami frowned briefly at the question. The thought had never entered her mind. “It’s not like that. I just like talking to her.”

“You like talking to her. That’s why we’re sitting in a limo parked less than twenty feet from where she is, not daring to go in there because it might take away some of her spotlight? Newsflash, no one knows who she is. The spotlight isn’t anywhere near Korra tonight.”

When Asami said nothing, Bolin continued. “Asami, if you just wanted to be her friend, you wouldn’t be sitting here staring out that window like a lovesick puppy. You’d have stayed at the hotel watching TV while Opal ran your errands. The fact that you insisted on coming tells me that you can’t bear the thought of not being here. Doesn’t that seem just a little bit odd to you?”

Asami let out an exasperated sigh. “What do you want from me, Bolin? You want me to say I have feelings for her? Well, I don’t, okay? Getting a crush on a girl I barely know, who I’ve never met in person, who doesn’t know the whole truth about me, and who’s straight, well... it’s not big on my to-do list. So if you would kindly stop putting these sort of thoughts in my head I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry,” Bolin said. He remained silent for all of five seconds. “Then what would it hurt you going in there?”

Asami shifted in her seat, annoyed that Bolin was getting to her. Going into the gallery hadn’t been part of the night’s agenda.

“Want me to go in with you?”

“No, you can’t,” Asami said after a moment.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want Korra’s friend recognizing you.”

“My picture’s been all over the press. If she hasn’t put two and two together...”

“You look different in person.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Shorter.” 

“Asami...”

Asami stared out the window at the gallery, trying to make up her mind one way or the other. She did want to see Korra, if only from across a room. She did want to be a part of this night, even if Korra wouldn’t know it. “I’ll go,” she said finally. “But you have to stay here.”

“Fine. But you better give me a full description. Especially if she’s hot.”

Asami rolled her eyes and reached for the door handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I’d post this early in celebration of Joe Biden winning the 2020 presidential election! I’m so happy I could cry.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Oh. My. God,” Kuvira said suddenly. “Is that... it can’t be...”

Korra turned around to follow Kuvira’s gaze, fully expecting to find some strange guy she’d never seen before but had undoubtedly heard about heading toward them to ask Kuvira why she’d never called. What she saw instead was a woman with a striking resemblance to Asami Sato. “It can’t be,” she echoed, but her gaze didn’t budge. She watched as the Gallery Director nearly trampled a server on his way to meet the woman.

“Holy fuck, it is her,” Kuvira whispered in Korra’s ear. “Pinch me.”

Korra pushed Kuvira’s arm away and took in the actress from afar. Asami Sato’s hair was long and black, falling around the actress’ face in shiny, silky strands that looked fresh off a shampoo commercial. Deep green eyes darted around the gallery as if looking for someone. Full lips suddenly parted into smile at the man talking to her, and her search stopped to regard him. She wore a red turtle neck sweater and a short black skirt beneath a long black leather coat that clung perfectly to every place that mattered. Tall black heels, that Korra guessed were three-inches long, made the actress tower over the man chatting anxiously in her face. Korra looked away, not wishing to be caught staring.

“Man, I really thought most of her was just airbrushed but she really is that beautiful.” Kuvira was shaking her head.

The general murmur of conversation returned to normal after the element of surprise had passed, and Korra ventured another glance at Asami Sato, but the actress was gone. Though Korra hardly considered herself a fan, she couldn’t help but feel awestruck. “What do you think she’s doing here?”

“Maybe she really likes art.”

“Right.” Somehow Korra doubted it. “She seems like an airhead to me.”

“Just because she plays an airhead doesn’t mean she is one.”

Korra shrugged. “I doubt very much she’s acting.”

Kuvira laughed. “So harsh. I’m going to go ask for her autograph.”

“Knock yourself out.” Korra was tempted to follow, out of curiosity if nothing else, but stood her ground. She watched Kuvira walk away and turned her head just in time to see Adam walking in.

***

Asami found Opal easily. Her assistant was talking to a young woman who seemed more than a little interested in whatever Opal was saying. Opal looked as if she was searching for an excuse to get away and found it the second she spotted Asami.

Asami watched the young woman’s gaze as it trailed after Opal. “Another ex?” she guessed when her assistant was within ear shot.

Opal laughed. “Yeah right. What are you doing here? I thought you had to stay hidden away lest you steal the limelight.”

“Blame your boyfriend. He practically pushed me out of the limo.”

Opal smiled as if she and Bolin had planned it all along. They probably had.

Asami looked around, hoping not to look as nervous as she felt. “So? Point her out so I know who to subtly stare at.”

“I haven’t a clue actually,” said her assistant. “I did what you asked but it didn’t involve any direct communication with the artist so... “

Asami sighed. “Great.”

“I could ask...”

“No.” Asami stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Being here will just have to be enough, I guess.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Sato?”

Asami knew what the girl wanted before she even turned around, so she wasn’t surprised to see the outstretched hand with the pen and paper in it. Asami offered her usual smile and accepted the objects. “Who shall I make it out to?”

“Kuvira.”

Asami’s grip on the pen faltered and she ended up dropping it. Kuvira, Opal and Asami all reached down to pick it up, nearly causing a three-way concussion. It was Kuvira who got to it first, and Asami forced herself to look at the girl. The hair was longer now, but it was definitely the same brunette that had been at the park the day she’d asked Bolin to purchase Korra’s artwork. Kuvira was a pretty girl, but Asami could now see why Bolin had asked for her number. She doubted very much that his eyes had drifted very far from her chest. Amused green eyes looked up at her as they offered the pen back. “Thanks,” Asami said, relieved to have something else to do. “I’m not usually such a klutz.”

“Yes she is,” Opal whispered.

“I heard that,” Asami said good-naturedly, without looking up. “There you go.”

Kuvira accepted back the pen and paper with a grateful smile. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re great in everything.” She paused. “Well, almost everything. Even you have to admit Seabord Cyborg wasn’t your best work.”

“Oh, see, that wasn’t me,” Asami said quickly. “That was my twin sister; my evil twin sister who suffered from a rare but serious condition which caused her to accept horrible movie roles in my place. She’s since been institutionalized.”

Opal snorted.

Kuvira laughed. “Well, then in that case, I think you’re great in everything.”

“Why thank you,” Asami said, grinning. “That’s sweet.”

Kuvira smiled. “Anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks again for the autograph.” Kuvira nodded at them and walked away.

“Nice recovery,” Opal said. “Did her breasts distract that much that you couldn’t even hold a pen?”

Asami watched Kuvira walk away and turned to Opal. “That’s her best friend.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Asami flagged down a server and took a glass of champagne off of the tray.

Opal coughed. “So, if that’s the best friend, then it’s safe to assume that that’s Korra...?”

Asami froze. “You see her?”

“Assuming that’s her.”

“And?”

Opal looked at Asami. “And... not at all what I’d imagined.”

Asami wasn’t sure what Opal meant by that. It took her a moment longer to finally gather her courage and turn around.

She’d pictured Korra a thousand different ways, even while trying not to. She’d told herself it didn’t make any difference: tall, short, fat, thin; letters on a screen didn’t need a physical description. Still she hadn’t been able to stop herself from trying to put a face and a body to the artist. And now that she was standing only a few feet away, getting her first glance at the real-life version, she knew she shouldn’t have bothered imagining; never in a million years would she have accurately pictured Korra.

Korra was smiling. It was the first thing Asami noticed when she turned around. Her smile lit up her sky-blue eyes; light blue, the sort of light that bordered on a different color altogether. Shoulder length brown hair framed her beautiful face. Asami let her gaze roam, because she couldn’t help herself. Korra’s skin was tan, darker than Asami had imagined on most occasions, and perfectly smooth.

Asami’s gaze trailed down Korra’s neck, pausing briefly at the assortment of necklaces, and continuing down to the tight turtleneck down to the fitting patterned slacks which clung to the undeniably gorgeous body beneath. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she forced herself to look away.

“Well,” came Opal’s voice, “I guess we just found your type.”

***

Adam had apologized for his tardiness, which Korra hadn’t really minded quite as much as her family’s. They, on the other hand, had apologized for their absence by phone, leaving messages on her voicemail. Her parents hadn’t wanted to venture so far downtown with the subway problems as they were, and Tara had been threatened by their Dad if she came anywhere near him.

So much for a family reunion, Korra thought, watching the passing traffic. She’d gone out to check her messages and hadn’t wanted to go back in right away. She breathed in, the cold air scented with cigarette smoke and the aftertaste of rain. She crossed her arms and shivered, knowing she should go back inside. There was no sense in moping. The night was still going well. Her artwork had sold, and people seemed to like it.

“You’re going to freeze out here.”

It took Korra a moment to recognize the voice. “I don’t mind the cold,” she said, turning.

“Want me to bring you your coat at least?”

Adam looked so concerned that Korra had to smile. The temperature had plummeted since she’d last been outside, and she knew that staying out there wasn’t healthy. “Nah, you win.”

Once inside, Kuvira materialized in front of Korra in the way Korra imagined demons did. “Don’t look now,” Kuvira was saying, “but Asami Sato is checking out your stuff.”

She frowned.

“Your artwork, I mean. Not your...” She waved her hands around Korra’s breasts.

“Totally unnecessary clarification, thank you,” Korra said, grabbing Kuvira’s hands and pushing them back down. She glanced over Kuvira’s shoulder because she couldn’t help herself. The section of the gallery with Korra’s art was visible from the entrance, and Korra had a clear view of Asami Sato. Or, at least, Asami Sato’s back. “She’s talking to the Gallery Director.”

“What are they saying?”

Korra squinted. “From the way her shoulders are angled and the way her head is tilted several degrees to the right, I would have to say they’re talking about slow dancing aliens.”

“Har har.”

“Ask a stupid question...” It was Adam who said this, and Korra grinned at him.

Korra moved so that she was no longer facing Asami Sato. Kuvira, who had no qualms about staring at the actress, turned around.

“I wonder who makes that coat she’s wearing,” Kuvira said. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“You could probably feed a small country with the price of her clothes,” Adam said. “Such a waste. We live in a society that would rather spend money on shoes than on helping another human being.”

Korra glanced at him, surprised and pleased by his comment.

“Hold your horses there, social issues boy,” Kuvira piped in. “This is Korra’s night and on Korra’s night there will be no conversations that require deep thoughts.”

Korra wouldn’t have minded discussing the subject further; it sure beat talking about Asami Sato’s outfit. But she remained silent, thinking that perhaps she and Adam could discuss it amongst themselves at a later date; perhaps over coffee. She filed the thought away for later.

“I think they’re talking about you,” said Kuvira a second later.

“What?”

“The Gallery Director is pointing at you and Asami Sato is staring right this way,” Adam answered.

“Heads up,” Kuvira said, covering her lips with her glass. “Director man headed to you.”

Korra turned to find Marcus Parks walking toward her. He was dressed in one of his usual designer suits; salt and pepper hair combed to the side to hide unseemly bald spots. He was fit for a man in his late sixties, but for the first time all night, he looked breathless and agitated. Korra could’ve sworn he was sweating. “Hello, Mr. Parks,” Korra said politely the moment he was close enough.

“Marcus, please,” said the man, adjusting his suit. “Ms. Sato wishes to talk to you about your work.”

Korra arched an eyebrow. “She wants to talk to me?”

“Yes, yes. And I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep her waiting.” The man put his arm around Korra and began leading her toward the actress. He whispered, “Ms. Sato has her eye on one of the most expensive paintings in the show. Keeping her happy is of utmost importance. A purchase from her would benefit us all.”

It will benefit your pocket and reputation, Korra thought, but only nodded. She was too nervous to speak. What in the world could Asami Sato possibly have to say to me?

***

This hadn’t been part of the plan; not that Asami had had a plan. But if she’d had a plan, talking to Korra would not have been part of it. She’d been looking at Korra’s artwork when Marcus Parks had approached her for the billionth time since she’d stepped foot in the gallery. The dollar signs in his eyes flashed as brightly as the Rolex on his wrist, but Asami had been content to humor him, going as far as feigning interest in an overpriced painting one would have had to be blind to appreciate. She would buy it, certainly, for charity if not genuine interest, and then send it straight to her stepmother. With luck, it would be cursed.

Marcus Parks, though an annoying and greedy sort of parasite, shared one very critical point of interest with Asami: Korra. The Gallery Director had seemed sincere in his praise of the artist, volunteering information without Asami having to ask. And though she hadn’t expected the brief but thorough analysis of Korra’s paintings, Asami had been more than happy to listen.

Asami imagined that her interest in the subject had been more than apparent, because a second later Marcus Parks was pointing Korra out in the crowd and half a second after that insisting that they meet.

She’d been watching Korra all evening because she couldn’t have helped it even if she’d wanted to. She’d been unsure, at first, that she had the right person. She almost hoped she’d gotten it wrong. What were the odds, really, that Korra would turn out to be the kind of beautiful that would make Asami Sato take notice? Even if it hadn’t been Korra, Asami would’ve watched the young woman. She would’ve watched and stared and tried to think of a way to wander closer, to strike up a conversation, just to get a better look. It wouldn’t have been the first time Asami had spoken to someone just because she found them attractive. She’d spent many years hiding her pleasure at exchanging meaningless conversation with a gorgeous woman. But this was Korra. Not a beautiful stranger at a Hollywood party. It was Korra. And Asami had never felt more intimidated by anyone in her life.

“Ms. Sato?”

Asami’s breath caught at the sound of the Director’s voice. She turned, trying to act calm, even if she wasn’t. Her gaze fell on Korra, and she offered what she hoped was a neutrally polite smile.

“Ms. Sato, allow me to present Korra, one of New York’s most promising young artists.” Marcus Parks looked like a proud father standing beside his daughter, and Asami was annoyed by his act. Korra couldn’t have possibly looked more uncomfortable.

After a moment, the man spoke again. “Well, I’ll leave you two ladies to it, then. Ms. Sato, please let me know the moment you need anything.”

Korra was the first to speak when the Director had left them. “Mr. Parks said you wanted to talk to me.”

Did he now? Asami looked away because looking at Korra was entirely distracting. She looked up at the artwork instead, thinking it a safe place to rest her gaze. “You’re very talented,” she said.

“Thank you.” 

Korra was nervous, Asami could tell, but it wasn’t the sort of nervousness the actress was used to. There was nothing that hinted that Korra was a fan, or that she was particularly impressed that Asami Sato would want to talk to her. The artist seemed mostly impatient, like she wanted to get away. Asami wasn’t sure if she was hurt or intrigued by this. What do you think of me? Asami wondered. What would you think of me if you knew the truth?

Saving these thoughts for another time, Asami focused instead on the art. One painting in particular had given her pause. It was a painting similar to the one Asami had hung above her bed, only this time there were two figures instead of one. “I like this one a lot,” she said, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound moronic. “It’s easy to get so wrapped up in your own loneliness that you forget there are others out there just as lonely as you.” She’d said this quietly, and for a moment Asami thought that Korra hadn’t heard. She dared a glance in the artist’s direction, only to find light blue eyes staring curiously at her. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Korra shook her head, looking embarrassed. “No. I’m sorry. You reminded me of someone else just then.”

Asami only nodded, panicked at the thought of Korra figuring things out.

“I tend to paint a lot about loneliness,” Korra said after a second. She shrugged, seeming shy suddenly. “I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m alone.”

“You can be surrounded by a thousand people and still feel alone,” Asami said.

A look Asami couldn’t decipher passed across Korra’s face. The artist looked at her, then; really looked at her, and Asami worried that the artist had managed to piece it all together. Korra looked like she wanted to say something, but changed her mind. “I suppose you’re right,” is what she finally said.

If Korra suspected anything she hid it well, and Asami couldn’t decide whether she was more relieved or disappointed. “I appreciate you coming over to talk to me. I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with your friends.” Asami glanced in Kuvira’s direction only to find the brunette and the guy Asami guessed was Adam staring back. They instantly looked up at the ceiling as if they’d been looking at it the entire time. Asami stifled a smile and turned back to Korra.

Korra was shaking her head. “I’m sorry, they’re not very subtle.”

“It’s okay; I’m kind of used to it by now.” She made a face. “Sorry, that sounded rather arrogant of me.”

“Yes.” Korra smiled. “But I can imagine that it’s true.”

Asami arched a brow. “Me being arrogant?”

To Asami’s surprise, Korra laughed. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Fair enough.” Asami smiled. She didn’t want to end the conversation, but she’d also never meant to start it in the first place. She stretched out her hand. “It’s been an absolute pleasure, Korra. Best of luck.”

Asami’s skin tingled the moment it came into contact with Korra’s. It was a brief handshake, but Asami could still feel Korra’s hand long after the artist had thanked her and walked away.

***

Korra had never been one to think much about celebrities, and in the rare moments when she did think of them, it was seldom in a favorable light. She’d never been one to care for autographs. There was no one whose picture she’d want to hang on her wall. For the most part, she found her country’s obsession with fame and Hollywood life idiotic. People were starving and suffering all over the world while those with the means to help cared more about the latest celebrity gossip.

What had people like Asami Sato ever done to merit such attention? Korra had never understood the mentality behind treating actors like royalty while the true heroes – the teachers, the social workers, the nonprofit workers– were left scraping the bottom of the barrel, trying to make ends meet.

It was for this reason that Korra had never thought much of Asami Sato. The Hollywood star had always seemed to Korra as entirely self-involved. It was easy to imagine that the actress’ extreme beauty was simply nature’s way of making up for a total lack of intellect. But as Korra walked away from Asami Sato, she couldn’t help but feel that she’d been unfairly harsh in her prior assessments. After all, what did Korra really know about her?

Korra hadn’t known what to expect of the actress, but comments such as I think that’s a pretty frame wouldn’t have surprised her. What Korra hadn’t expected was Asami Sato, of all people, talking to her about loneliness. She hadn’t expected the mixture of confidence and vulnerability that coated the actress’ words. It had made her forget, however briefly, that she was talking to a Hollywood star and not a random person in a gallery. She’d had to stop herself from asking any of the myriad of questions that had sprung to mind, because despite her belief that famous people weren’t any different than anyone else, Korra couldn’t help but feel a certain element of shyness in Asami Sato’s presence.

Up close, the actress had been even more beautiful than she’d been from afar, and Korra had been momentarily startled by that fact. Even with her bag full of preconceived notions about Asami Sato, Korra couldn’t deny that the actress had a fascinating sort of energy about her; every movement was fluid, never awkward or forced. Her face was a textbook example of perfect symmetry in action. And the eyes; Korra had tried to calculate how many different tubes of paint she’d have to mix in order to duplicate that shade of green.

She’d lost count.

“What did she say?” Kuvira asked, closing the distance between them. “Tell me everything; word for word and with careful attention to inflection.”

“I’m surprised you don’t know, given how much you were staring,” Korra said, ignoring Kuvira’s request. “You guys couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“I’m sure we could’ve,” Kuvira said. “Now shoot.”

“Where’s Adam?”

“He went outside for a smoke. Quit stalling before my head implodes.”

Korra frowned. “He smokes?” She felt a sudden pang of disappointment.

“Seriously. Brain imploding. Any second now.”

“She seemed to like my paintings,” Korra said casually. “She didn’t say much.”

“You suck. Asami Sato asks to talk to you about your art and you come back with ‘she didn’t say much’? She had to have said something. I saw you smile. Hell, I saw you laugh. And it wasn’t even that forced laugh you do when you don’t want to laugh but feel like you have to. It was genuine. And considering how much you’ve claimed to dislike Asami Sato, that’s huge. So spill.”

Korra sighed. Kuvira was exhausting. She looked around to make sure the actress wasn’t right behind her. “She said she liked one of my paintings in particular, and then said something about loneliness, and—“

“Really? You think that means she’s lonely?” Kuvira appeared thoughtful. “Well, her boyfriend did recently dump her.”

Korra rolled her eyes. “Anyway, she said something and then apologized for sounding arrogant, and then I said I could see how what she’d originally said was true, but she asked if I meant her being arrogant, and that’s when I laughed, and I’m really bad at retelling conversations.”

“Yes, you royally suck.”

“And then she shook my hand and that was it.”

“Wow. You shook Asami Sato’s hand. I didn’t get to do that. Do you think I should go back and do that?”

“If you want her to think you’re a complete freak, sure.”

“I liked her,” Kuvira said thoughtfully. “She seemed very... I don’t know... present in the conversation. Like she wanted to be talking to me even though I’d just come up to her out of the blue and pestered her for an autograph.” She shrugged. “Probably just an act. But it felt nice all the same. I hope I’m that friendly when I’m famous.”

Korra found herself scanning the crowd as she listened to Kuvira talk. There were more people than there had been earlier in the evening and she could only hope that meant the mess with the subway system had been fixed. Her gaze suddenly fell on Asami Sato and lingered there for longer than she’d intended. The actress was talking to Marcus again, or rather, listening as he talked to her, and all the while people passed by and stared as they noticed her.

Watching her from the other side of the room, Korra wondered if this was one of those moments when Asami Sato felt alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo what’d ya think? :D


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami stifled a yawn and stole a glance at the time on her cell phone. The day had been a long one, starting with a 5:00 a.m. wake-up call that Opal had set up and Asami had forgotten about until the voice on the other side of the phone had welcomed her cheerfully into consciousness. Many hours later, Asami sat inside a room inside a building somewhere in New York City, watching fellow actors – some of whom she recognized, some of whom she didn’t - audition for a part in Taylor Rose’s next film.

An actress Asami recognized but couldn’t place walked into the room, looking politely hopeful. The people in the room welcomed her kindly, if a bit tiredly, and asked her to begin whenever ready.

In the center of the room, a camera rolled, and Asami watched the girl’s monologue with growing interest. Victoria Kelley, Asami remembered the girl’s name suddenly. She was auditioning for the role of Asami’s younger sister, and Asami thought, watching as the girl read off the lines on the paper, that Victoria Kelley would be perfect for the part.

Taylor was the first to thank her when the girl was done, and Asami could sense the smile on the director’s face the second Victoria Kelley had left the room. “That’s our Sara.”

Asami silently agreed. It had been a long day, but it was looking up.

“What did you think, Asami?”

Asami looked at the director. “She’s perfect.”

Taylor looked pleased. “We’ll have her come back and read with Asami tomorrow, then. Just to be sure.” She stretched. “The good news is we’re done for the day.”

“Thank God,” the guy working the camera said with a laugh, and everyone let out a collective chuckle of agreement.

Asami turned the sound back on her phone, only to have it chime in her hand the moment she did so. The name “Korra” stared up at Asami from the digital display screen and she blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She felt her heart speed up as she answered. “Impressive timing,” she said by way of greeting, and she felt everyone’s eyes on her suddenly. Taylor’s looked particularly curious. Asami averted her gaze, feeling embarrassed. Her tone of voice, Asami realized, changed considerably when talking to Korra.

“Is that right?” came Korra’s voice. “Why’s that?”

“I was just finishing up something,” Asami said, knowing, as she said it, that it would lead to questions. She quickly added, “Actually, could I call you back in five minutes?”

“Ah, so my timing was actually off by five minutes.” Korra sounded amused. “I’ll have to work on that. Talk to you in five then.”

It turned out to be closer to twenty minutes. Getting to a place of privacy took longer than Asami had anticipated, especially after Ella Peters suckered Asami into a conversation about designer shoes that Asami thought would never end. But it had ended, eventually, somehow, and Asami had escaped.

She began dialing as her limo driver opened the door for her. She’d given Opal the day off to spend with Bolin, and Asami was suddenly grateful for the solitude.

“Satan’s house of kinky sex worship,” came a voice that wasn’t Korra’s. “How may I spank you?”

“What are the options again?” Asami asked, playing along.

Kuvira didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll have to speak to our resident sexpert, Mistress Spankalot. Oh and here she comes now—“

“I told you not to answer my phone,” said Korra, in a voice that sounded far away. And then, closer, “Hello?”

Asami smiled into the phone. It had been less than 24 hours since they’d spoken face to face, but it felt like longer. The previous evening felt like a dream. “Satan’s house of kinky sex worship?”

Korra laughed. “Sorry about that.”

“And I’m sorry that my five minutes turned into almost half an hour. Are we even?”

“Sure, that seems fair.”

Asami watched the scenery outside the window. If she’d been honest with Korra from the start, would they be having this conversation? How nice it would be to be able to say, “I’m free for the evening, do you want to grab dinner? I’m in the neighborhood. I could pick you up.” But she hadn’t been honest from the beginning. “So, how did it go last night? Tell me everything.”

“I was going to email you all about it, but then I decided to call you up instead. So, last night. Hm. Last night was definitely interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Well, there was this stupid subway malfunction, and my parents couldn’t make it. And my sister couldn’t make it either. But on the plus side, all my artwork sold. Someone bought them all. Crazy huh?”

Yes, I am, Asami thought. “Congratulations,” she said.

“I wish I felt happier about it.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I mean, I do. I just... there was one... and this is going to sound really stupid, but there was one I wanted to keep.”

“Oh.” Asami frowned, wondering which one.

“For you,” Korra added softly a moment later; then quickly followed it up with, “I know that sounds kinda weird...”

Asami’s heart was doing strange things. She didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve embarrassed you,” Korra said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that when I was painting it, I thought of you. I thought it would be something you would like. A kind of sequel to the one you bought... or something. Anyway, I didn’t think it would sell which is why I agreed to display it but well... it sold. I did take a picture. I can send you the picture.”

Asami found her voice. “Yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Cool. Um. So, anyway. Uh, Asami Sato showed up at the gallery, which was pretty surprising.”

Asami swallowed nervously. “Wow,” she said, knowing it sounded horribly flat. She couldn’t muster fake enthusiasm for herself.

“I know,” Korra said, “I wasn’t all that excited either.”

Asami felt something painful in her chest. “Oh, you don’t like her?” she forced herself to ask, thinking, as she spoke, that she didn’t really want to know the answer.

“As a rule, I’m generally not into the whole celebrity, Hollywood stardom thing. I think the world has better things to focus on, you know?”

“Absolutely.”

“And truthfully, she always seemed kind of a bimbo to me.”

Asami frowned. She’d been called many things in her life, but never a bimbo. “She went to MIT, you know,” she found herself saying before she could stop.

“Yeah, but she’s famous...”

“And graduated second in her class!” This she nearly yelled. “A very close second.”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were a fan.”

What the hell am I doing? Asami ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “I’m not a fan. I just... um... don’t think she’s a bimbo.”

“Well I don’t either,” Korra said, “anymore.”

“Oh.”

Korra started laughing. “Do you have a crush on her or something?”

“No,” Asami said, thinking the question so ridiculous she almost laughed. “She’s not really my type.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I mean, she’s pretty hot.”

“You think I... uh, she’s hot?”

“I thought everyone did. I think Kuvira put her on her list of celebrities she’d have a threesome with.”

“Oh, she’s not on yours?” Asami asked.

“Uh, I don’t have a list of celebrities I’d have a threesome with.”

How about a twosome? Asami thought, but quickly pushed the question aside.

“Do you?” Korra asked.

“I’m not really a threesome kind of girl,” Asami said.

Korra laughed. “How did we get on this subject again?”

“I’m pretty sure you brought it up.”

“So I did. Huh. Anyway, yeah, last night was interesting. And I think Asami Sato is actually pretty nice. I mean, I haven’t met any other famous people to compare her to but in human terms, she was nice.”

Asami smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time last night.”

“Yeah, it was good. Adam came. He invited me out for a drink after but I was too tired. I think I will ask him out for coffee one of these days though. I think we have a lot in common.”

“Great,” Asami said, but she knew she didn’t mean it. And the fact that she knew she didn’t mean it, worried her. I will not fall for a straight girl, she thought. I absolutely will not.

“So, what about you? Any romantic prospects?”

“Nope.”

“What about She-Who-Saved-You-From-the-Perils-of-Boring-Conversation? I was gonna give her an acronym but I think it’s too long... SWSY... FPBC... how would you pronounce that? Sausy.” Korra laughed. “Sausy Fipbic”

Asami laughed. “Sausy is not a romantic prospect. She’s someone I spend time with on a professional basis. And that’s it.”

“That’s how many of history’s most torrid love affairs have started.”

“Mm. I doubt any of them involved someone named Sausy Fipbic.”

Korra giggled. “That’s not really her name. What’s her name?”

Asami hesitated. “Taylor. Taylor Fipbic.”

Korra was laughing, and Asami knew she was quickly becoming addicted to that sound. “I’m sorry to say this, but I have to go,” she said regretfully, watching as the hotel came into view. The last thing she needed was her real name getting called while on the phone with Korra.

“Yeah, I should start getting ready for tonight, anyway. Email me?”

It was the first time Korra had ever asked her for anything, and Asami recognized at that moment that there would be nothing she would deny the artist. “You got it.”

“Later, Sami.”

She hung up just as the limo rolled to a stop.

A man smiled cheerfully as he opened the door for her. “Welcome back, Ms. Sato.”

***

“Get Cynthia on the phone,” Asami said the moment Opal opened the hotel room door.

Opal frowned. “I thought I had the day off?”

“That was before I found out about the bimbo image crisis,” Asami stated seriously. She glanced over Opal’s shoulder at Bolin, who was doing his best to cover himself with a sheet. She smirked. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Opal shook her head and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door. “You didn’t. He’s just a nudist. What’s this about a bimbo crisis?”

“People think I’m a bimbo.”

“What people?”

“Some people.”

“But you went to MIT.”

Asami laughed wryly. “Well! Apparently if you’re famous, people think you attend an entirely different school called MIT. Massachusetts Institute of Total Morons.” 

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” Asami asked.

Bolin opened the door, dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. “Is this girl talk or can I join in?”

“I think Asami is having a meltdown.”

Asami pushed her way into the hotel room. “Korra thinks - thought, or hell, maybe she still thinks – that I’m a bimbo. A bimbo! Me!” She started pacing. “Call Cynthia and tell her she’s fired as my publicist unless she can turn me into the Albert Einstein of celebrities by tomorrow. I can’t have people thinking I’m an idiot.”

“Maybe if you wore your glasses more,” Bolin suggested, only to get elbowed in the stomach by Opal.

“It was that stupid SoW Award ceremony, or whatever the hell it was called. I should have never agreed to it,” Asami said. “She probably saw me say that thing they made me say about how much I love my hair, only to cut out all the other stuff after that so it was just a shot of me going, ‘I totally love my hair.’ I’m gonna sue those bastards. Can I sue them?”

“Uh,” said Opal. “I’ll check on that.”

Asami sat down on the bed. “I’m not having a meltdown.”

“Okay,” said Bolin, leaning against the nearest wall and crossing his arms. “So, if I’m reading through all of the b.s. correctly, you’re freaking out that Korra turned out to be way hotter than she appeared in all of your X-rated, girl-on-girl fantasies, and now you’re worried that you won’t be able to dodge Cupid’s arrows forever because he’s aiming them straight at your oversensitive, undersexed heart.”

Asami opened her mouth to say something, but shut it.

Bolin smirked. “Just how hot is this girl?”

Asami fell back on the bed and covered her face with the nearest pillow.

“You just need to get laid. You’ve got way too much pent up sexual frustration making you all angsty and confused. Find a chick you think is moderately attractive and that you trust to be discreet, tear her clothes off, and let go. You’ll feel better, trust me.”

Asami tossed the pillow aside and sighed at the ceiling. “You know what? Fuck it. You’re right.” She got up from the bed. “You guys have been a lot of help.”

“We have?” Bolin arched an eyebrow.

Opal frowned. “Do you still want me to call Cynthia?”

“No. Enjoy the rest of your day off.”

“Where are you going?”

At the door, Asami paused. She smiled. “I’m going to call Taylor.”

***

“I have to admit,” Adam began, “I was a bit surprised that you called me.”

“You mean, as opposed to Kuvira calling you?”

Adam laughed and nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”

Korra looked around the café, at the rows of empty tables. She and Adam were the only people there, and it felt strangely intimate. She turned back to him. “I guess I wanted to thank you for coming to the gallery the other night. I did intend to call you myself to invite you to that, but Kuvira beat me to the punch.”

Adam chuckled. “She said something about you being rusty with any method of communication not involving the Internet.”

Korra rolled her eyes and shook her head, idly stirring the coffee in front of her. “She’s just jealous because I made a friend online. Kuvira is easily threatened and overly possessive.” She paused. “But... not in a creepy, Single White Female type of way. She just—“

“She cares, I get it,” Adam said, nodding. “It’s nice having a friend like that.”

“It is. She’s like a sister.”

“I always wanted a sister,” Adam said. “Got two brothers instead; one younger, one older.”

“I have an older sister. We’re actually really close. Korra smiled.

Korra bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Look, before we continue forth with this conversation, I just want you to know that I’m not trying to confuse you or lead you on or anything. I’m still not sure I’m ready to—“

“Korra,” Adam said, interrupting. “Relax. Really. I’m not expecting anything or reading into this in any way. I’m mostly flattered that you’d want to spend time with me at all. So, just drink your coffee. I’ll drink mine. And that’s all this has to be.”

Korra studied his face for a moment. Sensing his honestly, she relaxed. “Okay.”

“Of course, Kuvira did tell me you were going to sleep with me the other night, and you didn’t, so we should probably get on that.”

Korra froze, cup of coffee half-way to her lips.

Adam started laughing. “I’m sorry. Kuvira begged me to say that, and I couldn’t resist.”

Korra put the coffee down and shrugged. “Well, I was going to ask when you wanted to ‘get on that’, as you put it. But since you were just kidding...”

It was Adam’s turn to freeze. “Uh...”

Korra grinned. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

Adam shook his head. “Touché.”

***

Asami stared at the menu in her hand, wondering what the hell she was doing. Across from her, Taylor was on her cell phone, talking to someone about something that Asami had given up trying to follow.

She hadn’t called Taylor after her alleged meltdown. She’d dialed the numbers and stared at them, but hadn’t completed the call. She hadn’t wanted to make a rash decision based on advice from Bolin, of all people. But she’d thought about it. She’d thought about it all evening, and all night. And the truth was that Bolin was right. She had to loosen up. It was either that or lose her mind.

She’d run into Taylor at breakfast the next morning, and somewhere between the miniature croissants and the sliced strawberries, Asami had summoned up the courage to ask Taylor to dinner. The director had seemed surprised, but had accepted easily. And now here they were.

“... I’m having dinner with Asami right now, can I call you back later?... Yes... yes... I know. I promise I’ll take care of it. Okay. Okay. Bye.” Taylor let out a sigh. “I’m shutting this off. I’m really sorry about that. Did I mention I hate producers? The lot of them can go to hell.”

Asami arched an eyebrow.

“I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course.” 

“Of course.” Asami smiled.

Taylor took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s just cut to the chase. Is it bad news?”

Asami put the menu down and frowned at the director. “Is what bad news?”

“The reason you asked me to dinner. You’re not dropping out, are you, Asami? Please don’t tell me you’re dropping out of the film.”

Taylor didn’t suspect a thing, Asami suddenly realized. And why would she, Asami thought. It’s not as if she’d worn a ‘Nobody Knows I’m a Lesbian’ t-shirt. “I’m not dropping out,” she said.

Taylor let out a long breath. “Okay, I think my heart stopped beating there for a moment.” She sat back. “Okay. Okay, good. Anything else I can handle. Lay it on me.”

Well, I’m a closeted lesbian looking to lose my virginity in the hopes that doing so will salvage whatever’s left of my sanity, and since you’re the only attractive lesbian I know... Asami cleared her throat in the attempt to clear her mind, and dared herself to look at Taylor. “What makes you think I have any kind of news?”

A dark brow lifted in question. “You mean you don’t?”

Asami simply shook her head.

“Oh.” Taylor grinned. “How refreshing.” She grabbed the menu. “Usually the only time actors invite me to dinner it’s to let me down easy.” She paused. “And there was this one time when one wanted to sleep with me.” She laughed.

Asami quickly averted her gaze and picked up the menu again. “And did you?” she asked after a moment. She’d had a couple of drinks before Taylor had arrived, and now she was regretting that decision. The self-edit button was quickly headed toward out-of-service status.

Taylor glanced up at the question. “No,” she said, and then added, “Not really into men.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Asami said under her breath. 

“I’m sorry?”

Asami caught Taylor’s gaze and almost repeated herself, but the waiter intervened. He took their orders while Asami silently pondered what she was doing here.

The director was looking at her when Asami glanced up. “I’d like to run something by you to see what you think,” Taylor said.

Asami relaxed slightly at the thought of not having to come up with her own topic of conversation. “Go ahead.”

“Last night at dinner one of the producers suggested that I play Samantha. Something that had honestly never crossed my mind, but that they had apparently given a lot of thought to during their meetings. Obviously, that’s provided the perfect Samantha doesn’t walk through the audition doors, but... what do you think?”

Asami blinked in surprise. This she hadn’t expected: Taylor playing her on-screen lover. She moved her head to the side, studying Taylor thoughtfully. She regarded the dark brown hair, the silky strands pulled back in a way that reminded Asami of Lara Croft. She imagined those brown eyes looking back at her in a different context. She thought of Samantha’s dialogue spoken in Taylor’s voice. It made sense, suddenly. “I could see that,” Asami said.

Taylor looked pleasantly surprised. “Yeah? Well, I guess we’ll see then. I’d still like to audition a few people. And maybe set up a screen test to see if you and I have any chemistry whatsoever in front of a camera.”

Asami took a sip of water and nodded because she couldn’t think of anything to say. She’d lost her nerve. She thought she’d at least get around to coming out to Taylor but she didn’t know how to at this point. And maybe it was for the best. She’d been stupid to think she could, overnight, turn herself into the sort of person who’d make advances toward another woman. She wasn’t that person; didn’t know how to be that person, no matter how much alcohol was in her system. And Asami knew that Taylor would never come on to her; not without an invitation, and maybe not even then.

“May I ask you something?” Taylor said suddenly.

“Shoot.”

“When I first spoke to Lin about getting you for this film, she told me you’d never play a gay role. Then she called back and said you were considering it. What made you take it?”

Asami was caught off-guard by the question. But the answer was simple enough. “I loved the script,” she said honestly. “It’s really beautiful. Though, I guess what really sold it for me was... well, you.”

Taylor looked surprised. “Me?”

“You were different from most of the directors I usually meet with. Not yet corrupted, I guess.” Asami smiled. “I’ve been doing commercially viable movies for a long time, while waiting for something different to come along. And you delivered different. Great script, great role, intriguing director... I couldn’t refuse.”

“Intriguing?” Taylor grinned. “I don’t think anyone’s called me intriguing before.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Huh.” Taylor nodded to herself. “And your qualms about playing a gay role?”

Asami sighed at the question. “It’s not what you think. It’s not that I have an issue with it because of any political or religious views or even because I’m uncomfortable with the idea. I just... um...” How to explain? “I just wanted to remain off the gay press’ radar for as long as possible.”

Taylor frowned briefly at that. “That’s a curious answer. Any particular reason?”

“I wanted to avoid speculation.”

“Ah,” Taylor said, as if she understood. She smiled. “Well, they say that people thinking you’re gay just means you’ve officially reached stardom.”

“And I’d be all for them thinking it,” Asami said, finding courage, suddenly, “if in my case it weren’t true.”

Comprehension dawned on the director’s face and she sat back in her chair, looking stunned. “Okay,” she said, after a moment, “I think my brain just exploded.”

Asami laughed. She should have felt more nervous than she did. She should’ve felt more concern, even regret. But all she felt at that moment was relief.

And maybe just a tiny bit of panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that just happened. 
> 
> On a side note, I love how Asami cares so much about what Korra thinks. Hopefully Asami doesn’t try to push away her feelings too much longer.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami looked down from her balcony seat to the theater below, silently surprised by the turnout. The rows of plush red seats were filled with hundreds of bodies, and all of them after the very same thing: a shot at stardom.

Taylor leaned forward, her arm brushing against Asami’s. “This is going to be fun,” she said, sounding every bit like she meant it. The director was practically bouncing in her chair.

“If you say so,” Asami replied with a short laugh. She sat back. Nothing much had changed between them since Asami’s confession two nights prior. The initial shock had passed, their dinner had arrived, and the conversation had drifted on to neutral topics. If the director had any thoughts or feelings on the subject of Asami’s sexuality, she certainly wasn’t telling Asami about them.

Ella Peters poked her head in through the red curtains and then walked in. “Thank God I found you. This place is a zoo. I had to jump over a guy pretending he was dead. At least, I think he was pretending.” She chuckled at herself and moved to take a seat. The producer was dressed in one of her usual somber-colored suits. Her brown hair was pinned back and away from her aging face. She looked, to Asami’s eyes, like every other producer she’d ever met. But Ella was, in Asami’s estimation, a kind woman; a kind woman with a job to do.

Taylor was dressed in jeans and a tight red hooded sweatshirt. Her long brown hair was partly concealed beneath a white bandana.

Asami found the contrast between them amusing, and she hid a smile as she turned her attention back to the crowd.

“I hope you’re not wasting my time with this, Taylor,” Ella was saying as she draped her coat over the back of her chair. “If we’d wanted a bunch of amateurs we would’ve called for a bunch of amateurs.”

“You’re free to leave,” Taylor said, sounding neither impatient nor annoyed. “If I see anyone noteworthy I’ll have them come for a proper audition.”

“I’ll stay for a few minutes,” Ella said after a moment of thought. “Since I’m here.” She seemed to notice Asami for the first time. “Oh hey, Asami. I didn’t see you there. I was blinded by the red on this girl’s shirt.”

Asami smiled. “Hi, Ella. I believe Taylor has a meeting with a bull after this.”

Ella let out a loud, shrill laugh. “Oh I believe it.” She elbowed Taylor. “She’s funny. I never thought she’d be funny.”

Taylor sent Asami an offended look but looked more amused than anything. “As it happens, I do have a meeting with a bull. Of sorts.”

Ella snorted, but Asami missed the joke; if it had been a joke. The actress glanced back down at the crowd. She liked the energy emanating from the room; it lacked the desperation she was used to back in L.A. She scanned the faces, trying to see if anyone stood out. No one did.

The doors to the theater opened, catching Asami’s attention briefly. A small of group of people walked in and quickly began searching for an open seat. The doors began to close, and then swung open again.

Asami was about to look away when recognition dawned. “Oh shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Taylor was leaning forward again, looking at the actress with concern.

Asami sat back as if the railing had burned her. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “I just remembered something. It’s not important.”

The curtains behind them parted again, and this time Opal walked in. “Line for the bathroom is eternal,” she announced, and took a seat beside Asami. “Did I miss anything?”

The actress shook her head. She waited until Taylor ’s attention turned elsewhere, and leaned over to whisper in Opal’s ear, “She’s here.”

“She who?” Opal frowned briefly in confusion then her eyes widened. “You’re kidding?”

Asami shook her head.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

Asami shrugged. She was about to say she had no idea, when she remembered Korra mentioning that Kuvira was an actress. Of all the days and all of the auditions in New York City... Asami looked down at the throng of people again. It took a couple of minutes, but she finally spotted Korra, and beside her, Kuvira.

The artist was dressed casually in a black hoodie and ripped jeans. Her brown hair was loose, settling near her shoulders in layered waves. Asami thought she looked even more beautiful than she had at the gallery.

“Neo looks really cute today,” Opal whispered.

Asami frowned at her assistant. “Who?”

Opal glanced pointedly in Taylor’s direction. “Code name. Learn it. Use it.”

Asami rolled her eyes and slumped down in her chair. But after a moment, she said, “She does.”

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Taylor announced, rising. “I just want to check on a couple of things with the person in charge of this shindig.”

“I’ll come with,” said Ella. “There’s no reception in this hellhole.”

Asami watched them leave and turned her attention back toward nothing in particular.

Opal leaned closer. “Has she made a move on you yet?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe she’s shy?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to risk offending her lead actress by assuming anything.”

“Yeah but you’ve at least flirted with her, right?”

Asami shrugged, feeling unnerved by the conversation.

Opal flailed her arms. “Well then of course she’s not going to make a move on you. You need to let her know you’d welcome her advances.”

“Would I?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you? Did you see her butt in those jeans?”

“Remind me again how much I’m paying you to be a complete pain in my ass?”

Opal smiled. “Definitely not enough.” She glanced at the curtain, making sure no one was about to come in. “You need to like... invite her to something.”

“I asked her to dinner.”

“That doesn’t count! That was before T.O.” At Asami’s blank look, she added, “Before the outing. All you did there was confuse her. Now you need to make your intentions known.”

Asami sighed. “Opal, I have no intentions. What if things don’t work out? What if it turns out that we bring out the worst in each other and all we do is fight and the movie goes to hell; or what if she falls in love with me, and I don’t fall in love with her and she gets all psychotic and jealous? The mere thought of the potential drama that my involvement with her might cause is enough to give me hives.”

“Tell me again why you don’t have a therapist?”

“I’m being perfectly rational.”

Opal nodded. “Oh yeah. Perfectly. That’s why you had a mental breakdown at the thought that Someone Who Shall Remain Nameless thought you were a bimbo. That’s why you keep glancing over that railing. ‘Cause having the hots for a straight artist who thinks you’re two different people is perfectly rational.”

Asami frowned and crossed her arms. “I have it all under control.”

***

“Wow, so many people,” Kuvira said, looking around. “I feel like we’ve come to watch a performance instead of audition.”

Korra nodded distractedly. “Yeah absolutely.” She looked around. “Do you think the line for the bathroom has died down yet?”

“How should I know? Why didn’t you pee before we left?”

“Because you dragged me out of the apartment like the place was on fire. I was lucky to grab a jacket.”

Kuvira held up her hands in front of Korra’s face. They were trembling. “Look at me, I’m nervous. I never get nervous.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re always fine. I’m not even sure why I’m here.”

“Holy mother of cows,” Kuvira said suddenly.

“What?”

Kuvira motioned with her chin, and Korra followed her gaze until it landed on the balcony seats. Behind the black railing sat none other than Asami Sato. “Holy mother of cows,” she echoed. “Okay, I’m officially freaking out. Why is Asami Sato here?”

The guy in front of them turned around. “I hear she’s here with a director and a producer trying to cast for her next movie.”

“No shit?”

The guy shook his head. “If there was ever a place to be today it’s here. To think I almost told my agent I didn’t want to come.” He laughed and turned back around.

Kuvira sat very still. “Wow,” was all she said.

Korra glanced up at balcony again, trying to catch a better look, but it was far, and the railing blocked most of her view.

“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Kuvira asked.

“I don’t know,” Korra said. “It was only a few days ago. Her memory can’t be that bad.”

“I knew I should’ve gone back to talk to her more. Maybe you should audition. She’ll remember you for sure.”

Korra smiled and shook her head at the thought of auditioning. “Right.” And then she remembered a far more important matter. “I really do have to pee. I’m going to brave that line.”

“Just go into the men’s room. That’s what I do.”

Korra laughed. “It may just come to that.”

***

All under control, Asami repeated to herself, doing her best to look anywhere but down at the crowd. So what if she found Korra attractive?

Lots of people had to find Korra attractive. Lots of people had to find her funny and interesting, too. It didn’t have to mean anything.

She looked down because there simply wasn’t anywhere else to look that didn’t feel ridiculous. Her gaze wandered to the spot where Korra sat. It took her half a second to register the fact that it was empty. She scanned the seats and isles to see if Korra had wandered elsewhere, but there was no sign of the artist.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” she found herself saying a second later.

Opal looked incredulous. “In New York City?”

“Maybe I feel like inhaling car exhaust,” she said, standing.

Opal shook her head but made no move to stop her.

Asami walked through the curtains and down the ramp that joined with the other sections of the theater. The clusters of performers were gone, having presumably migrated to the auditorium. Their absence left behind an eerie kind of stillness in the hallway. Asami looked around for Korra, trying to determine where she could have gone; trying to ignore the many warning bells in her mind. “What am I doing?” she whispered to herself, but had no answer.

She walked down the main staircase. She wandered outside. No sign of Korra. By the time she returned to the theater, she’d given up, or come to her senses, or both.

And then, suddenly, there was Korra, walking hurriedly out of the men’s room. She halted in her steps at the sight of Asami. Light blue eyes went round with surprise.

The actress smiled in silent greeting, and glanced over Korra’s shoulder to look at the men’s restroom sign. She arched a brow in question.

Korra looked embarrassed. Her cheeks reddened ever so slightly as she glanced behind her. “There was a line... and then the cleaning lady... I... um... don’t do this often.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Asami teased. She could stand there all day looking at this girl, she thought, as a million alarm bells chimed in her head. She ignored them. “I was looking for you.”

“You were? For me?”

“I saw you from the balcony,” Asami found herself admitting. “I didn’t know you acted on the side.”

“Oh, I don’t. My best friend, Kuvira, she’s the actress. I don’t know if you remember her, but I think you guys met—“

“I remember. She’s not easy to forget.”

Korra nodded, looking somewhat nervous and awkward. She put her hands in the pockets of her sweater. “I’ll be sure to tell her you think so.”

Whatever you do, don’t look at her lips. “Anyway,” Asami began, deciding to get to the point before she forgot that she’d come up with one, “the reason I was looking for you is that I have a proposal for you.” She’d lain in bed the night before thinking of the many ways in which Korra might fit into her life; and after many hours, she’d come up with one. “I’m going to be moving here in a couple of months,” she continued, thinking it surreal that she was speaking these thoughts aloud, “and I’m getting a new apartment that will undoubtedly need some personal touches. Long story short, I really want your artwork on my walls.”

Korra blinked at her. “You want my artwork? On your walls?”

“You seem surprised.” Asami went on. “Anyway, yes: your artwork, my walls. I’d pay for your time, your supplies, and of course, the art itself.”

“You’re serious about this.”

Asami looked into light blue eyes and smiled softly. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

Korra stared at Asami silently for a long moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” Asami countered.

“Because...” Korra started to answer but trailed off. She was silent again, looking pensively at the carpet. “Okay,” she said, looking up. “I’d be happy to.”

***

There had been many instances in her life when Korra had thought that she was dreaming.

There was the incident in the first grade when she’d accidentally peed herself in class because she’d been too shy to ask the teacher for permission to go to the bathroom. To this day she still refused to tell anyone about that, even Kuvira. There had also been the cafeteria incident in middle school, during which she’d slipped on a puddle of milk on the floor and landed with her lunch tray all over her brand new clothes; to the amusement of her fellow students.

Many years later, Korra found herself in a fancy New York theater, hurrying out of a men’s bathroom. And because it was her life, and not anyone else’s, there simply had to be a Hollywood star passing by at just the right moment to catch her. And not just any Hollywood star, the only Hollywood star that actually knew who she was.

“... got your card at the gallery, so I’ll have my assistant get in touch with you, if that’s okay?”

Korra felt her head move up and down. It was, she decided, still possibly a dream. The theater did have a rather strange, empty quality to it. She could hear the sound of conversation, but it was distant and muffled. Would a dream involve distant and muffled sounds? She didn’t know.

Asami Sato was still in front of her. Korra half expected the actress to morph into someone else entirely, like her mom; or maybe something, like a bat, or a magical carpet. But no, the green eyes looking down at her were distinctly Asami Sato’s, and Korra was certain that if it were a dream, she wouldn’t be noticing Asami Sato’s perfume, which Korra didn’t have a name for, but decided she liked.

In a dream, also, Korra decided that the actress would not have been dressed in jeans and a black V-neck, no matter how nicely fitted it all was. In a dream, Asami Sato would have been wearing a dress; something weird and expensive, worthy of red carpet mockery and the Worst Dressed list. No, this wasn’t a dream. Korra had really just agreed to create artwork for Asami Sato’s apartment. “I, uh, look forward to the call.”

“Great,” said the actress. “I should be heading back in there. I kind of wandered off. I’ll be in touch.”

Korra watched her walk away for longer than necessary; if it was even necessary to watch someone walk away. She shook her head, and headed back into the auditorium to find her seat.

“Did you fall in?”

Korra plopped down on the chair. “This really isn’t a dream?”

“Why would it be a dream?”

“I ran into Asami Sato.”

“In the bathroom?”

“No, outside of it. And if that wasn’t weird enough, she said she was looking for me.”

Kuvira’s mouth fell open slightly. “That is weird.”

“Oh, it gets weirder. She said she wanted my artwork on the walls of her New York apartment.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit not.”

Kuvira took a moment to absorb the information. After a minute of reflection, she came back with, “This is fucking huge. I mean, if she throws celebrity parties, everyone’s going to see your work. You’re gonna become like... Korra: Artist to the Stars.”

Korra laughed, though her heart sped up a bit at the thought. At that very moment, anything seemed possible.

“Did she say anything about me?”

“Only that she liked your ass.”

“Seriously?”

“No. But she did say she remembered you and that you were hard to forget.”

Kuvira grinned. “She said that? Really?” She bounced in her chair. “I’d never been so excited about a woman remembering who I am before. I feel giddy.”

“And witty and gay?”

Kuvira laughed. “No matter what happens with this audition, we should go out and celebrate afterwards.”

Korra glanced up at the balcony, out of reflex, and maybe curiosity. Asami was leaning over to talk to someone else. Korra had no idea what she’d just gotten herself into; wasn’t entirely certain that it was real. Her excitement was tinged with a distinct level of trepidation. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. “Let’s not celebrate this yet. I don’t want to jinx it.”

“What, you think she’s going to change her mind?”

“She doesn’t even have an apartment here yet. I think it’s a bit premature. Let’s celebrate when we know it’s for real.”

“As you wiiiiiiish.”

Korra smiled, but said nothing. She was content to sit in silence and let her mind wander.

Why me? she wondered again, staring up through the balcony railings. Of all the artists in the world... why do you want me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby steps :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami had been spacey and distracted since returning to her seat. She’d ignored Opal’s questioning glances, and later, the questions themselves. She didn’t want to admit to her assistant – to herself, really – that she’d stalked the artist, and then offered her a job for no other reason than to be closer to her.

The sound of clapping broke through her thoughts, and Asami regarded the stage where another actor had taken the spotlight. She watched his performance for a full minute before losing interest. So far, no one had caught her eye. Ella Peters had left half an hour into the auditions, proclaiming it a waste of her time. Asami might have been tempted to follow suit were it not for the fact that Kuvira’s audition was coming up.

There was another round of clapping, and Asami glanced down to see a familiar brunette take the stage. Kuvira introduced herself and the two contrasting monologues she’d prepared. After a short pause, she began.

Asami hadn’t been expecting much. All performances up to that point had been adequate, perhaps excellent at times, but certainly not what they were searching for. Kuvira, on the other hand, was something else entirely.

As Asami sat in her balcony seat, watching Kuvira, she found herself shaking her head. What were the odds that Kuvira would be this talented?

“What do you think?” Taylor asked, when Kuvira had finished and the thunderous clapping had died down.

“She’s worth calling in.”

“Agreed.” Taylor wrote something down in the notebook she carried. “I also liked that other girl; the one with the hot pink scarf and the funky glasses.”

Asami must have been spaced out during that one. “Uh, yeah. She was good.”

“Great. I feel good about this.”

Asami smiled at the director’s optimism, but felt a pain in the pit of her stomach. Her life, which up until this point had felt simple and straightforward, was suddenly spinning out of her control. Even if she had never emailed Korra, she would still be sitting there in that theater, agreeing to grant Kuvira an audition.

“Maybe it’s fate,” Opal whispered, as if reading her thoughts.

Asami ignored the comment. Ignoring things seemed, for the moment, like the best thing to do.

***

“I still think we should go out and celebrate or something,” said Kuvira, as she tossed her keys onto the kitchen table. “I mean, just the fact that she suggested – hell, just the fact that she came up to you. When does shit like that happen? Never. Shit like that doesn’t happen. We should celebrate the anomaly that is your encounter with Asami Sato.”

Korra sat down on the couch and kicked off her shoes. “If we’re to celebrate anything, it’s your totally kick-ass audition today. When did you get that good?”

“I’ve always been that good,” Kuvira said, without an ounce of modesty. She dropped down on the couch beside Korra and popped open a can of soda. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean crap. Asami and her posse will probably cast that guy... the one that was drooling during his monologue.”

“It was some pretty impressive drool.”

“Or how about that girl, the one who clicked her tongue after every other word. It was like, ‘Today tsk I went to the bank tsk and it was great tsk.’ What was that?”

Korra laughed, both at the memory, and at Kuvira’s rendition. “There were quite a few disasters up on that stage.”

“Thank God, too, ‘cause it would’ve been so boring with no one to make fun of. Anyway, back to this whole Asami Sato business... I feel like we should be screaming and jumping around or something. Just sitting here feels wrong; like it’s no big deal that a major celebrity wants to hang your artwork in her apartment. I don’t know how you can act so blasé about the whole thing.”

Korra felt anything but blasé. She had fidgeted in her seat the entire time she’d been at the theater. As much as she hadn’t wanted to think about it, or get her hopes up, she couldn’t quite stop trying to picture what it would be like to work for Asami Sato; she couldn’t help but worry about all of the things that could go wrong. What if the actress didn’t like what Korra came up with? What if Korra was unable to meet Asami Sato’s demands?

The ringing of the telephone broke through Korra’s thoughts, and she was secretly thankful for the interruption. As much as she prided herself in telling Kuvira everything, she was embarrassed by her worries. Why, for once, couldn’t she just feel proud?

From somewhere in the apartment Korra heard Kuvira say, “This is Kuvira,” in the voice she reserved for Matters of Great Importance. Curious now, Korra turned around in the couch to catch her best friend walking back into the living room. “Absolutely,” Kuvira said into the phone, “...where?... ten o’clock? I’ll be there... Do I need to prepare anything?... Oh, sure... no that’s no problem... see you then.” Kuvira clicked the phone off and stared at Korra. “Okay, now it’s my turn to ask if this is a dream.”

“Who was that?” Korra asked.

“That? That was frickin’ Taylor Rose! She was only like one of my favorite theater actresses ever. And then she completely dropped off the map and reappeared as a film director at Sundance a couple of years ago. And now she’s calling me because she saw me today and wants me to come in and audition for her next film.”

“No way!”

“Oh, way.”

Korra hopped off the couch. “Okay, now I feel like we should be screaming and bouncing around.”

Kuvira suddenly looked panicked. “Oh God, I need a haircut. And a new outfit. We need to go right now. Get your coat.”

Korra frowned at her best friend. “Your hair is fine.”

“Fine? Fine?! I can’t get a role in a movie looking fine, Korra. I need to look spectacular. I need to blow them away. Looks first, talent later. Come on. We’ve got serious ground to cover.”

***

Asami stared at the computer screen, at the flashing cursor ticking away the seconds of wasted time. For days, she’d gotten only as far as writing “Dear Korra” before getting distracted or interrupted or simply giving up. It had been easy at first to tune in to that other part of her; to slip into the character of her distant, other self, and forget, however briefly, that she was pretending.

But now the thought of emailing Korra made Asami feel only ashamed. Each time her fingers moved over the keys, her mind would flash back to the artist, standing before her, beautiful and unsuspecting. Everything she thought to say felt like a lie, and lying was out of the question.

She closed the laptop and placed it beside her on the couch, feeling depressed and alone in her empty hotel room.

The knock at the door was soft but audible in the sudden silence and Asami frowned briefly before moving to answer it.

Taylor stood in the hallway, looking somewhat hesitant to be there. She smiled shyly. “I hope this isn’t a bad time?”

Asami regarded the director with mild curiosity. “Not at all,” she said. “Would you like to come in?”

“No, that’s okay.”

Asami felt nervous suddenly, and didn’t know why. She now regretted telling the director the truth about herself. It made her feel exposed. It made her feel unbearably shy. But at least she could pretend to feel otherwise. Acting was, after all, what she did best.

“I just came by because... well, what are your plans for tonight?”

“Officially none.”

“And unofficially?”

“None.” Asami smiled. “Why? Did you schedule some exciting auditions for tonight?”

“Actually, I got a couple of tickets for Wicked and it was either invite you or invite Ella Peters or just go by myself, and honestly, the first option was the most appealing so... here I am. You are, of course, under no obligation to say yes.”

Asami’s nervousness escalated. “Uh...”

“It’s not a date,” Taylor added, “if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, unless you want it to be. Not that I want it to be a date... or not want it to be. Uh...” She took a breath. “How am I doing on the smoothness scale?”

Taylor looked so nervous that Asami had to smile. At least she wasn’t alone. “Wicked sounds fun,” she said, because it was the truth and because the thought of being outside was less depressing than the alternative.

“Excellent. Glad this wasn’t as awkward as I feared.” Taylor laughed. “Seven o’clock sound okay to you? Meet up in the lobby?”

“It’s a plan.” She’d almost said ‘date’ but stopped herself. “See you then.”

Asami closed the door and leaned against it. She let out a long breath and tried to relax.

Taylor had asked her out. Sort of. Taylor had maybe kind of asked her out, which made tonight a sort of kind of maybe date to which she had said yes.

She thought of Korra suddenly. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk to the artist. She wanted to gather up her mess of feelings and drop them at Korra’s feet, to sit quietly by and watch the artist sort through them. She wanted it to be Korra who sat in her room, telling her what to wear. She wanted it to be Korra that stood at the other end of the evening, eagerly awaiting the details of her date.

Asami desperately wanted Korra to know her, really know her; not as Sami, not as Asami Sato, but as her. The part of her not captured on film. The part of her few others saw.

She sighed sadly, glancing at the computer. Perhaps she could drop Korra a quick email. Just to say hello. Saying hello wouldn’t be a lie.

Back on the couch, Asami stared at the empty email message before starting to type.

_ Dear Korra, _

_ I’m sorry I’ve been so bad about writing to you. I’m not the best at online communication. _

_ However, I really wanted to say hi and see how you’re doing. _

_ Currently, I’m freaking out a bit over the fact that She Who Saved Me From Boring Conversation asked me out. Well... that’s not entirely true. She invited me to go with her to see a play. The date-or-not-date aspect wasn’t quite clear as she kind of stumbled through that section. _

_ I have no idea what to wear. _

_ I hope your day is going well. _

_ Take care, _

_ S. _

***

Asami wondered why everyone felt the need to leave the theater at the exact same time.

Did they all have important meetings to get to? Was the air inside so suffocating? Had someone shouted, “Fire!” the moment the curtain had gone down? She watched the crowds of people as they pushed their way toward the exits.

“So what did you think?” 

Asami turned to Taylor. They were both still seated in their VIP seats, waiting for the masses to disperse. “I loved it,” she said. “I feel like watching it all over again.”

Taylor smiled brightly. “That can be arranged. I’m sorry I could only get two tickets. I’m sure you would’ve liked to invite Bolin and Opal along.”

The comment surprised Asami, but she didn’t show it. “They’re actually out on a romantic tour of the city.”

“So, you and Bolin... you were never really...”

“A couple? No. The media liked us together so we went along with it.” Asami shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation.

Taylor nodded. “Yeah, I know how that goes.”

Asami wondered at that, but didn’t ask. “Looks like the coast is clear. Shall we?”

Asami trailed after Taylor, wondering what might come next. Despite her nervousness she didn’t want the evening to end. She enjoyed the director’s company. More than that, she dreaded the thought of returning to her empty hotel room.

“Are you hungry?”

She was, Asami suddenly realized. She was starving. “Very.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go back to the hotel or not...”

Asami smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

Taylor laughed and looked away. Asami thought she saw her blush. “For dinner? I have just the place.”

***

Korra settled into bed and pulled the covers over herself in an effort to keep warm. The temperature outside had dropped considerably and the temperature inside her room wasn’t faring any better. She shivered and pulled the laptop closer.

She’d spent the evening chasing Kuvira from store to store, giving half-hearted opinions about outfits she’d never personally wear in her lifetime, and trying desperately to think up a good excuse to escape. But she’d stayed through to the end of the madness, as a good best friend would, and now she was happy to be home, tucked away in the peacefulness of her room, freezing her ass off.

Korra watched the email load on her screen. She hadn’t heard from Sami since their phone conversation. Their email exchanges had tapered off over the past couple of weeks and Korra wondered if she should take the hint and stop writing. But just as she had the thought, the name Sami Taso caught her eye.

She read the email over a couple of times. She’d developed a strange habit of reading Sami’s emails too quickly the first time around, as though it might suddenly self-destruct and disappear forever. Then she clicked reply.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ Well if she stumbled her way through asking you it definitely sounds like a date to me! _

_ That’s exciting. I can’t wait to hear (read?) all about it. _

_ Things on my end are... well. Where to start? This morning I went with Kuvira to an audition thing because she likes to drag me along to these sorts of things. I think she gets bored going places where she has to wait around and needs to have someone there to hear her talk. _

_ Anyway, long story short, I ran into Asami Sato just as I was coming out of the men’s room (don’t ask). I was terribly humiliated, especially since she actually a) remembered me b) came over to talk to me. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, she also claimed to be looking for me. (!!!) And then she told me she wanted to hire me to create some art for her new apartment. _

_ See, I’m typing this but I almost feel like all of it is a dream I had instead of something that actually happened. _

_ Then, because the day just wasn’t surreal enough, Kuvira got a call from some movie director who wants her to audition for a film. She spazzed out and dragged me to every store in downtown Manhattan in search of... hell, I don’t even know what it was she was looking for. _

_ I’m even unsure as to whether or not she found it. _

_ So yes, today has been insane. I keep randomly pinching myself because it all seems too... incredible, really. _

_ It might all go nowhere, of course. Asami Sato could just as easily forget all about me tomorrow (I sort of expect her to actually) and Kuvira might not get a role in the film. But at this moment, it’s wonderful just to feel... validated. _

_ Anyway, I’m afraid I must end this now because my fingers are about to fall off from the cold. I dream of one day living in an apartment with proper heating. _

_ Bet it’s nice and warm where you are. :) _

_ Hope you’re having fun on your date! _

_ Your frozen friend, _

_ Korra _

***

Asami shivered and dug her hands deep into the pocket of her coat. Taylor’s idea of ‘just the place’ wasn’t quite what Asami had imagined. She’d pictured a restaurant with walls, and tables, and chairs; a place where the two of them might sit across from one another and exchange conversation over a bottle of wine.

Asami stared up at the big, somewhat gaudy sign that read Gray’s Papaya and arched an eyebrow at Taylor. “Here?”

Taylor smiled. “Both the best and the cheapest hot dogs you’ll ever have. My treat.”

Asami couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hot dog. She wasn’t entirely certain that she ever had. “The best, you say?”

“Hands down.”

“Okay then.”

“What do you want on it?”

“Surprise me.”

Taylor laughed. “How brave of you.”

The director got in line and Asami stood off to the side. Despite her best attempts to blend into the wall, she was recognized almost immediately, and spent the subsequent minutes signing her name onto ketchup-stained napkins and posing for pictures with strangers.

Taylor eventually rescued her by placing a hot dog in her hand and dragging her away from the crowd. “I’m sorry about that. I forgot who you were for a moment. You could’ve stayed in the limo.”

Asami smiled, liking the thought that Taylor could see her as something other than a famous actress. “I didn’t really mind. It kept my mind off the cold.”

Back in the limo, Asami glanced down at the hot dog. It was piled sky high with condiments and other various toppings. She’d never felt quite as intimidated by a meal before. “You sure this is safe to eat?”

The director laughed and took a bite of her own. “Mmm.”

Asami took a deep breath and gave in. After the second bite, she decided Taylor wasn’t quite as insane as she’d originally imagined.

“Well?”

“It’s quite good.”

Taylor grinned. “I was worried you were going to hate it.”

“Yet you seemed so confident.”

“Never let them see you sweat.”

Asami smiled and returned to her food. She thought of Korra, because thinking of Korra had become a constant. Did Korra like hot dogs? It was an odd thing to wonder. What difference did it make if she did or didn’t?

“What would you like to do now?” Taylor asked. “If you’re not already sick of me, that is.”

Asami finished eating and glanced at the director. “Where did all that confidence go?”

“Honestly?”

“Unless you’d rather lie.”

Taylor took a deep breath. “You make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” Asami frowned briefly. “Why?”

“Because I have no idea what you’re thinking. I have no idea if you’re having fun or if you’re bored or if you enjoy my company or if you’re just humoring me.”

“I suppose that’s true. But then, I don’t know any of those things about you either.”

“Really? Do I seem bored?”

“I’m not sure. Honestly, I’ve been too busy being nervous myself to wonder.”

Taylor looked surprised. “I make you nervous?”

“Very.”

“You don’t seem nervous.”

“I’m an actress.”

Taylor laughed at that. “Okay. Well, why do I make you nervous?”

Asami sighed and looked away. The limo was inching along with no particular destination, and she was on the brink of blunt honesty. What was it about New York that made her feel like an entirely different person? What was it about being here that made her want to take risks? “You make me nervous because I’ve never so much as kissed another woman, and being around you terrifies me.”

Taylor looked at her for a long moment. The sound of traffic hung in the background, distant but audible against the silence. “Because I’m gay?”

Asami caught the director’s gaze. “Because you know I am. Because I don’t even know if this right here is a date or not, so I’m not altogether sure what to expect. I can’t even decide if I want it to be a date or not. I’m worried you’ll mistake me for someone with experience when I’m anything but. I’ve been hiding my entire life and I’m comfortable in that place. Miserable, but comfortable; lonely, but comfortable. So yeah, you make me nervous. Petrified, even.”

Taylor seemed to absorb that. She smiled. “How about you get back to me when you decide whether or not you want this to be a date, and we’ll go from there?”

Asami relaxed suddenly. “Okay.” They settled into an easy silence. After a moment, she added, “I am having fun, by the way.”

Taylor smiled brightly. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me. 
> 
> Isn’t it cute that Korra is always on Asami’s mind though?


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami stirred the cup of coffee in her hand, watching the spinning brown liquid briefly before looking up. Taylor was looking at her and Asami smiled, somewhat casually, somewhat awkwardly from across the room. Now that they were in the company of others, Asami felt reserved. She dropped her gaze and returned to her seat, saying hello to the casting director as she passed by.

Though the previous evening had ended professionally enough, Asami still worried about who might’ve seen them together and how it might have looked. She’d spent half the night berating herself for not being more careful and the other half wondering what kissing Taylor might feel like. There had been other thoughts, too, mainly centered around Korra.

“You look tired,” Ella Peters said suddenly. “Rough night?”

Asami took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Didn’t sleep very well.”

“Had a hot boytoy in your bed?” Ella laughed and sat down beside Asami. “Ah, to be young and beautiful.”

Asami glanced at Taylor who was looking back at her, amused. She cleared her throat and turned back to the producer. “I’m afraid my bed was quite empty last night.”

Ella looked as if she didn’t believe Asami, then she laughed. “Well if that’s true then I’m sure it wasn’t for lack of offers, eh? I heard you and that studmuffin broke up. Shame. You two made a beautiful couple. Don’t you think?” She directed the question at Taylor who’d taken a seat nearby. Not waiting for the director’s answer, the producer continued, “Are you still single?”

“Quite so,” said Asami.

“You know, I have a son. He’s not a male model or anything, God bless him, but he’s a sweetheart. I tried to set him up with that one over there,” she said, motioning to Taylor, “but it turns out she swings in an entirely different direction. First date didn’t go quite as planned.” She chuckled.

“Most awkward night ever,” Taylor mumbled.

Asami bit her lip. “I’m kind of... not really looking for anyone right now,” she said, hoping that was enough to deter the woman, knowing, somehow, that it wasn’t.

Ella was digging into her purse. “I’ll just give you his number. If you’re feeling lonely when you move to New York, give him a call. He can give you a tour. You don’t need to get married or anything.”

Asami accepted the piece of paper without looking at it. “Will do...”

“Okay, then,” Taylor said, rising suddenly, “if no one else has a son, brother or distant third cousin they want to try and set our lead actress with, let’s get started.”

Asami put the guy’s number away somewhere that looked like she wouldn’t forget about it, though she knew she would. She missed the safety of her relationship with Bolin, realizing just then how simple it had made things.

The door opened, catching Asami’s attention. A young woman stepped in, looking both nervous and confident as she walked to the center of the room.

Taylor sat next to Asami and handed her part of the script. To the girl, she said, “You may start when ready. Asami Sato will be reading with you.”

The girl took a moment and then began. From the second she first spoke it was clear that she wasn’t right for the part, but Asami read her lines as though the real Samantha stood before her.

The audition ended minutes later and Ella Peters was the first to speak once the girl had exited. “My vote is still on our esteemed director for the role. We’re wasting our time with these auditions.”

“Seriously, Taylor,” said the casting director, whose name Asami had entirely forgotten. “I told you from the beginning that part was all you.”

Taylor seemed thoughtful. “I’ll do a screen test and then we’ll see. There’s always the question of chemistry.”

“Oh, please, Asami would have chemistry with a rock,” said Ella.

Asami arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. She wondered if they’d forgotten she was still in the room.

“I’m not sure how to take that,” Taylor said.

Ella snorted. “You’re slightly more attractive than a rock. Anyway, are we seeing more people? I’ve got a hair appointment at three.”

Asami smiled to herself, enjoying the easy banter between the two women. It was the first time in a very long time that she’d felt so at home in a work environment, and though she knew things might change once filming started, she was glad to be a part of this group of people. Whatever the consequences of playing this role, it felt worth it.

The door opened then, and Asami felt her breath catch at the sight of Kuvira. Despite the fact that she’d been expecting her, Asami was all the same surprised. The brunette had dressed simply in a burgundy leather jacket, black tunic sweater, and dark jeans tucked into black boots. It was a far more subtle look than the one she’d sported at the gallery, and much less distracting.

“Glad you could make it on such short notice,” Taylor was saying.

“Happy to be here,” Kuvira said.

“I hope you’ve had enough time to look over the scene and get a feel for what it involves,” Taylor said. “Feel free to start whenever you’re ready.”

Kuvira was nodding and looking calmer than Asami had expected. The brunette’s gaze traveled quickly around the room and lingered briefly on Asami before turning to the pages in her hand.

Asami watched the exchange of dialogue with interest. Kuvira was auditioning for the part of Lynn, the main antagonist, and doing a great job of it. Taylor, too, seemed right at home reading for Samantha, and Asami sighed quietly, thinking that Taylor playing her onscreen lover was a recipe for emotional chaos, no matter how right for the part the director was.

And Kuvira... Asami didn’t even want to consider the many complications that might arise from Kuvira landing a role in the movie.

Maybe it was fate, Asami considered. Maybe fate was set on punishing her for telling lies over the Internet.

The scene ended and Taylor thanked Kuvira for coming. And just like that, it was over.

Asami watched the door close, thinking the entire ordeal terribly anti-climactic.

“She’s great,” the casting director said.

“She is,” Taylor said, looking at the headshot of Kuvira in her hand. “Unfortunately, she’s got little to no film experience and no agent. She’s not even been professionally trained.”

Ella chuckled. “I thought you were the one that wanted to scrape the bottom of the barrel of New York City actors?”

“I’m all for finding new talent, and hell, she’s got it in spades. But the lack of experience and representation raises a few flags for me.”

“For me as well,” said Ella. “That girl we saw the other day... what was her name? She’s on that show about the tennis instructor? Well, her. She was perfectly good for this role.”

“She was okay,” Asami found herself saying, realizing too late that she’d spoken aloud. They were all looking at her now, so she opted to say something else. “I mean, it’s good. It’s fine to play it safe.”

“But?” Taylor prompted.

Asami shifted in her seat. It wasn’t her place to be voicing casting opinions. She was just an actress. “I don’t know... it just seems to me that some risks are worth taking.”

The casting director spoke after a moment. “You know, I’ve been looking for a lead for a short film project a friend of mine is doing. I think this Kuvira girl would be great for it. We could try her out first and see how it goes. Filming shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks.”

Taylor looked thoughtful. “That could work. Ella?”

“You know how I feel about casting a bunch of unknowns for this film,” the producer said with a shrug. “When it flops, you know who to make the checks out too.”

“That’s what I love about you, Ella, your positive attitude.” Taylor rolled her eyes.

Asami didn’t say anything more, thinking she’d said enough already. There was a part of her that wanted to jump to Kuvira’s defense, to battle strongly and adamantly in favor of casting her. But there was also a part of her that agreed with Ella.

The auditions that followed were, in Asami’s estimation, entirely forgettable, and by the time the last person wandered out of the room, Asami was grateful that casting actors was not in her job description.

Joe, the camera guy, was the first to leave the room. He gave a quick apology, explaining that his wife had gotten held up at work and couldn’t pick up the kids from school. He handed Taylor some tapes and wished everyone Happy Holidays before making his disappearing act. Asami had never seen anyone pack camera equipment quite so rapidly before, and she was rather impressed.

Meanwhile, Ella had begun gathering her possessions. “I’ve got to run, too. My husband’s boss is throwing his annual Holiday party and it’s all the way in Jersey. I’ve got six hours to do my hair, my nails, and get a bikini wax.” She stood and smiled warmly at Asami. “Asami, it was a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait to see you again. Have a safe flight back to L.A. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and all that.” She glanced at Taylor. “You, I’ll see later.”

“I’ll ride down with you,” said the casting director. “I’ve got a meeting with my son’s principal. Guess who’s not getting that gaming console he wanted for Christmas?”

Ella snorted and the two women disappeared through the door, chatting back and forth about the perils of motherhood.

It struck Asami suddenly that she had absolutely nowhere to be, nowhere to go, and no real life outside of that casting room. She had, up until that moment, forgotten entirely about Christmas.

“You okay?” It was Taylor asking.

Asami reached for her coat and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just realized that Christmas is coming up and I haven’t done any shopping.”

“You’ve still got a week. When’s your flight?”

“Tomorrow morning. Opal and Bolin wanted an extra night in the City.”

Taylor nodded and slid on a pair of black gloves. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, my friend’s throwing a party downtown, and you’re more than welcome to join me.”

Asami considered the offer for a split second, but said, “Thanks, that sounds fun, but I think I’m going to just crawl into bed, order up some room service, and watch TV.”

“Ooh, that does sound good.” Taylor smiled.

If Asami had been the flirting type she might’ve said, “You’re welcome to join me,” but she wasn’t, so she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped a scarf around her neck and returned Taylor’s smile.

“So what are your plans for Christmas?” Taylor asked, as they headed out of the room and toward the elevator.

Asami’s plans were bleak at best. She vaguely recalled agreeing to make dinner for Bolin and Opal. “Well, my family’s in Paris...”

“You’re not joining them?”

“Ah, no. The further away they are, the happier I am. So, I’ll probably spend Christmas Eve with Opal and Bolin. What about you?”

“I’m going skiing,” Taylor replied. “Really festive of me, huh?”

“Sounds fun, actually.”

“Want to come? It’ll just be me and a couple of friends. We like to do unconventional things for the holidays. Last year we went white water rafting. Next year we’re thinking... sky diving.”

Asami smiled. It all sounded nice. Terrifying, but nice. “I think I’ll pass, but thanks.” The elevator chimed and they stepped inside. “I’m more of the quiet Christmas at home type.”

“I’d love that, actually,” Taylor admitted a moment later. “But I’m alone, so what’s the point? I think I’d just get depressed waking up on Christmas morning with no one to share it with.”

That sounded like a pretty accurate description of Asami’s most recent Christmas mornings. She was especially not looking forward to the next one, and for a moment she actually considered Taylor’s invitation.

The elevator doors opened before Asami could make her mind up one way or the other.

“Can I offer you a ride anywhere?”

Taylor paused to consider. She glanced at her watch. “I’m meeting with my realtor in an hour to look at a couple of apartments so I should probably hang around here.”

Asami nodded. Parting ways with Taylor always felt awkward. “Well, have fun at your party tonight. And be careful skiing.”

“Thanks. Have a safe flight.”

“See you in a few weeks.” Asami started to turn away, but stopped. “You know, the other night?

Taylor looked back at her expectantly.

“It could’ve been a date,” Asami said. She smiled at the surprised look on the director’s face. Then she did walk away.

***

Korra jumped up from the couch the moment she heard the keys jingle in the door. “How’d it go?” she asked impatiently. She was practically hopping with anticipation.

“I think I kicked ass,” Kuvira said in a tone that gave no indication as to whether or not she was pleased about the fact.

Korra let out something that sounded like a shriek and hugged Kuvira. “I knew you’d rock it.”

Kuvira hugged her back, and then said, “I don’t think I’m going to get it.”

Korra’ elation gave way to confusion. “But why?”

Kuvira hung her leather Bolinet on the rack by the door. “I’ve got no experience, no agent, nothing to show for myself except a few lousy plays that no one’s ever heard of.”

“Yeah, but if you were good...”

Kuvira sighed. “It doesn’t work that way. Trust me; I’ve got no delusions about this role. Not after seeing the sort of people they were auditioning. On the plus side, I got a bunch of autographs.”

Korra wasn’t sure what to say. She’d expected the situation to be a little more black and white than this.

Kuvira had moved into the living room, and Korra followed. “Oh so guess who was in the room I auditioned in?”

“Who?”

“Your future boss.”

“And again I say, who?”

Kuvira smirked. “Asami Sato. Crazy, isn’t it? First she shows up at your art thing. Then she randomly follows you into the men’s room and offers you a job. And now I get called in to audition for her movie.” She paused to consider. “Do you think she’s stalking us?” 

“It was outside the men’s room, not... never mind.” Korra sat down on the couch.

“What are you watching?” Kuvira asked, noticing for the first time that the TV was on. She sat down next to Korra.

Korra smiled. “Guardian.”

Kuvira laughed. “I don’t believe you. Really? You hate that show.”

Korra shrugged. “There was nothing else on.” She watched Asami Sato on her TV screen for a moment. “Maybe she is stalking us.”

“I got to read lines with Taylor Rose,” Kuvira said suddenly. “Holy shit. That just hit me.”

“Who’s that again?”

Kuvira ignored the question. “She was like, this close to me.” She stood up and came to stand in front of Korra. “We breathed the same air. She... talked to me. Taylor Rose, Korra!”

“Still don’t know who that is, but it all sounds very exciting.”

Kuvira sat down again. “It would’ve been so nice to get that role,” she said, sounding depressed. “I mean, jeez, Asami Sato’s the lead. How insane is that?” She pointed to the screen. “I could’ve been acting with her. Hell, you’re going to be decorating her apartment, that’s even crazier.”

“I’m sure she’s forgotten all about it,” Korra said, because she couldn’t help but think that it was true.

Kuvira sighed. “I really hope this wasn’t the highlight of our year.”

“Well this year is almost over.”

“That’s true,” Kuvira said. “I suppose it’s okay if it’s the highlight of our year then. Speaking of, are we doing Christmas at your parents’?”

“I guess. It’s going to be so weird without Tara there.”

“But so nice without Mako there,” Kuvira added with a grin. “Maybe we can do New Year’s with Tara. I’ve been dying to meet Megan. We can throw a party here.”

The thought of spending New Year’s with her favorite people made Korra smile. “I think that’d be wonderful.”

Kuvira turned off the TV. “Let’s go buy a Christmas tree.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, all the pretty ones will be taken. We’ll take the ugliest one we can find and make it all pretty.”

Korra giggled. “Let’s get two. We’ll both decorate one and Megan and Tara can judge the best makeover.”

“Oh you’re so going to lose.” Kuvira jumped up. “Let’s go!”

Korra smiled and followed Kuvira. For the moment, she forgot all about Asami Sato and the job offer that might never be.

***

Bolin was sitting in her hotel room when Asami walked in, and she paused at the sight of him sprawled on her bed watching TV. Then she closed the door. “What are you doing here?”

“And hello to you, too, my dear best friend,” replied Bolin, shutting off the TV with the remote.

“How’d you even get in?”

“I smiled at the maid, and she let me in.”

“That’s it? You smiled?”

“You can’t tell, Asami, because you’re a lesbian, but I’m actually ridiculously handsome.”

Asami smiled and removed her coat. “Damn these lesbian eyes that make you look like a two-headed troll.” She hung her coat in the closet. “Where’s Opal?”

“Sleeping. She always takes a nap after sex.”

“Thanks for the tip. And back to my original question, what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Asami sighed. “You know if anyone saw you sneak in here they’re going to think we’re having an affair.”

Bolin shrugged. “So let them. Tell me about your date with Taylor.”

Asami frowned at him. “How could you possibly know about that?”

“One of your fan blogs has pictures of you at Gray’s Papaya. There’s a very cute one of you and Taylor, each holding a hotdog, getting into a limo. Very New York of you.” He stretched out on the bed. “So, tell me the juicy bits. Skip to the part where you undress each other slowly.”

She sat on the couch and regarded him for a long time. “I was hoping the outing would slip under the radar.”

“You’re always on the radar.”

“So it seems.” She signed again and kicked off her boots. “I told her that she terrified me and that I was a virgin.” She shook her head and let it fall against the back of the couch. “I’m a disaster with women.”

“You’re honest. I bet it’s refreshing for her. Plus, I’m sure the whole virgin thing has her all intrigued.”

“Or turned off.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be the first to get into Asami Sato’s pants? You could totally make a reality show about it.”

“I think that’s the most depressing thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I could try harder.”

“Shouldn’t you get back to Opal?”

“She’ll be fine. Tell me about Taylor.”

Asami stared at the ceiling. “She’s funny. She’s smart. She’s talented. She’s a shopping list of perfect qualities.”

“And she’s hot.”

“And she’s hot,” Asami agreed.

“But?”

Asami thought of the way she’d felt when she’d first seen Korra at the gallery, and then again at the theater. She thought of the voice at the other end of the phone line and the way her stomach fluttered whenever the name Korra appeared in her inbox. She didn’t want this for herself. She didn’t want to be the sort of person who yearned for the unattainable. “I think I’m going to see where things go. If she wants things to go somewhere, I mean. I don’t even know how she feels.” She stopped to consider. “Though she did invite me skiing with her and her friends for Christmas.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I said no.”

“Off to a good start.”

Asami shrugged. Then she smiled. “I feel like I should be paying you $300 an hour for this conversation.”

“I’ve upped my fee to $400; which reminds me, you have several outstanding bills.”

“Take it up with my accountant.”

Bolin sat up and came to join her on the couch. He patted her knee. “So what else is new?”

Asami knew he was asking about Korra without asking about Korra, but she didn’t know if she wanted to tell him that she’d stalked Korra in the theater and then asked her to paint the art that would go into her future apartment. It all seemed ludicrous; like an elaborate daydream gone too far.

“Opal told me that Korra was at that thing you went to with Taylor...”

She looked at him. “Of course she did. What else did she tell you?”

“Was there more to tell?”

She hesitated but finally gave in to the desire to talk about it. “I followed her. Well, I saw her leave so I went to find her. And I found her. And I asked her to paint for me. I asked if she would please look at my new apartment once I got it and decorate its walls with her art.”

Bolin was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Seriously?”

“I know it’s crazy...”

“They say love is crazy.”

“I’m not in love.”

“How would you know what you are? You’re dating your director while pining for your Internet penpal who thinks you’re someone else.”

“Pining? I’m not pining. And I’m not in love. I’ll admit to a crush. A small one.”

“Okay.”

Impatient to switch the focus of the conversation, she said, “Did I mention her best friend might end up in my movie?”

Bolin brightened. “The hot brunette?”

“The very one.”

“Interesting.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

Asami sighed. “I don’t know. Something cliché and untrue like ‘everything’s going to be fine.’”

Bolin shrugged. “I’m just a guy. My job is to point out hot women and encourage you to get laid.”

“Great.”

“Speaking of which, you should sleep with Taylor. In a romantic cabin somewhere. On Christmas day. An orgasm makes a great gift.”

“So, you think I should go skiing with her?”

“Is that what they’re calling it now? Fine. Yes. Go ‘skiing’ with her.”

Asami smiled. “Go spoon your girlfriend or something. Our hour is up.”

Bolin grinned and stood up. “I’ll leave you to your brooding, then. But before I go, ask me what I think.”

Asami looked up at him, anxious for him to go but also dreading the silence that would follow. “What do you think, Wise Bolin?”

“I think that if it’s Korra that you want, it’s Korra you should go for.”

“She’s straight.”

Bolin smiled. “So, blindfold her and go down on her, she’d never know the difference.”

“Okay! And that’s your cue to leave.” Asami started pushing him toward the door.

“Goodbye, Bolin.” He left willingly, winking slyly at her as the door closed in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a “small” crush...
> 
> Also, here’s something very off topic. If you have written a fic, or have read an awesome fic, and would like me to convert it to a different ship (with the author’s permission), please comment it below! There are so many great fics out there and I’d hate for them to go unread just because it revolves around a ship you dislike or haven’t heard of. 
> 
> Just thought I’d throw the idea out there! Thanks for the support. I love reading all your comments! 💕


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

_ Dear Korra, _ Asami typed, as her plane floated thousands of miles in the air. Somewhere nearby Bolin and Opal sat, talking quietly amongst themselves in that private way that made Asami feel left out. But she didn’t really mind. Not at that moment. She was content to just sit, and type, and not think for once; to ignore her worries and fears and guilt, and simply be.

The plane shook suddenly, and Asami thought of Taylor and her fear of flying. She smiled briefly and looked outside. The clouds stretched out endlessly against a light blue sky. The plane shook again and the captain’s voice filled the air, apologetic but confident that everything was fine.

The one flight attendant on duty came to Asami’s side and offered to refill her drink.

Asami nodded and thanked her. With nothing else to distract her, she returned to the email she’d begun.

_ So, you wanted to hear about my date. I think it went fine. The play we saw was wonderful. _

_ Dinner was unconventional but interesting. And then in the car she admitted that I made her nervous because she didn’t know what I was thinking, and I admitted that she made me nervous because I’m a complete novice in the ways of love and dating and women and that I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be a date because... just because. But she just kind of smiled and said to let her know when I’d made up my mind one way or the other. _

_ The evening ended with a half-wave type of thing and no plans for an encore. _

_ But yesterday I saw her and I think I implied that the other night was a date – and then I kind of left her standing there, looking surprised and confused. _

_ She invited me to a party and I said no. She invited me skiing with her and her friends for Christmas and I said no. _

_ I’m sure I must be the queen of mixed signals. _

_ What about you? How are you? How’s Kuvira? How’s the art? Are the holidays stressing you out? Are you one of those people that does all of the shopping back in September or do you wait until the last minute (like me)? Do you celebrate Christmas or something else? I never thought to ask. _

_ I’m cooking dinner for my friends on Christmas Eve. My family’s in Paris until January so Christmas Day should be a pretty solo affair. I haven’t even bought a Christmas tree yet. _

_ Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask: what’s your favorite book? Assuming you like to read and that you have a favorite book. I have too many to list but the first that comes to mind is The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. Have you read it? Actually, anything of hers is wonderful. _

_ Hm. And now I think I’m out of things to randomly ask you. Actually, here’s one more: do you like hotdogs? _

_ Your friend, _

_ S. _

***

Korra yawned into her sleeve as she waited for the laptop to boot up. She glanced around the coffee shop and squinted across the room at the menu pinned to the wall, written in faux colored chalk and perfectly aligned lettering. She couldn’t see a thing.

Kuvira appeared suddenly behind the counter, her brown hair pinned back into a high pony tail which swayed from side to side as she walked over. “Wasn’t expecting you so early,” she said by way of greeting.

Korra nodded absently. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing there at ten o’clock in the morning when she knew perfectly well that Kuvira didn’t get off until four-thirty. But the alarm had unexpectedly gone off at eight and Korra had been unable to get back to sleep because the television next door had been cranked to the highest volume setting and she’d been forced to listen to the high-pitched squealing of cartoons until even the pillow over her head couldn’t muffle out the sound. Then the Internet connection had crashed, and the cable had gone out, and the apartment had practically pushed her out the door with the threat of eternal boredom should she remain. But none of this seemed important right then. “What’s your strongest coffee?”

Kuvira raised her eyebrows. Then her lips parted into a cryptic smile. “We call it ‘the Eye-Opening-Ass-Kicker-One-Thousand’. Want one?”

Korra briefly wondered if that’s what it was written under on the menu. “Sure, why not?”

“Coming right up!”

Korra waited until Kuvira had disappeared behind the counter again and lazily turned her attention to the computer screen. Today she was tired and grumpy and not at all looking forward to last minute Christmas shopping with Kuvira.

She smiled at the sight of Sami’ latest email and read it over, slowly this time, because she was too tired to read it fast. The words made her smile, and lifted her spirits in a way that not even the ‘Eye-Opening-Ass- Kicker’ managed to do – though it did wake her up slightly.

_ Dear Sami,  _ began her reply.

_ I’m glad that your date went well, though it sounds like you, my friend, are a tease. :) No matter. I’m sure that our esteemed Saucy Fipbic finds your mixed signals appealing and that you’re well on your way to become the future Mrs. Fipbic. I hope I’ll be invited to the ceremony. ;) _

_ Life, on my end, has returned to its normal, boring self. Kuvira had her audition but hasn’t heard back one way or the other, and nothing of consequence has happened to me. I will note, however, that it’s entirely possible that Asami Sato is stalking Kuvira and I, as she happened to be present at Kuvira’s audition. Coincidence, you say? Hah! _

_ Okay, well, maybe. _

_ Anyway, my favorite book. Hm. It’s actually been a while since I sat down to read anything that wasn’t on a syllabus. And I suppose it’d be kind of predictable if I said Harry Potter but I admit to being a big fan of the series. I’d ask if you’d read it but I figure you have. For a while I was really into the Terry Pratchett Discworld series. Have you read that? I’ve been meaning to get back to it but I forgot where I left off. _

_ I haven’t read The Poisonwood Bible. Maybe I will. :) _

_ Hotdogs. What a terribly random food item to ask me about. I think they're great, but in my humble opinion, seaweed noodles are the best food to ever exist on Earth. No joke. _

_ Here’s where I ask you some totally random questions in return then, isn’t it? Okay. Let’s see. _

_ Do you like... cashews? _

_ What color is your toilet paper? _

_ Which reminds me, I never really answered your question about my rather strange penchant for collecting toilet paper squares. It started as an art idea, I think. I thought it’d be cool to create a collage of toilet paper from every bathroom I’d ever been to. I’d even take a pen and write down the date and place I’d gotten the paper from. But, eventually, I started to forget to do it until I stopped completely. _

_ Public bathrooms were a little tricky because of the lack of a pre-cut square (in most), and they’d always use that same generic type of paper so I kind of gave up on those after a while. _

_ I still have a shoebox filled with them somewhere in case that collage idea comes back to me. _

_ You must think me terribly odd. _

_ Anyway, today I’m going Christmas shopping with Kuvira, which should answer two of your questions. I am definitely not the type of person that shops early. In fact, if left up to me, I’d probably shop on Christmas Eve. _

_ What’s on your wish list this year? :) _

_ Your friend, _

_ Korra _

***

“She thinks I’m stalking her,” Asami said into the phone.

Bolin’s voice sounded groggy and full of sleep. “It might be the fact that you are. And what the hell time is it?”

Asami glanced at the time. It was six a.m. “Sorry, I thought you might be up.”

“Who’s calling at this hour?” came Opal’s voice. She sounded annoyed. Then her voice was closer. “Uh... hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Asami?” There was a pause. “Are you dead?”

“No. I don’t think I am. But since you’re awake, tell me something. Say someone thought you were stalking them, how would you... unstalk them?”

There was a muffled sound and then the phone went dead.

“Hello?” Asami said. She frowned. “Guess they’re not morning people.” She tossed the phone back on her bed and regarded the computer. She read Korra’s email over again. Korra had been joking about the stalking bit, she knew, but the fact that she’d thought of it in those terms bugged Asami. It wasn’t her fault that Taylor dragged her to the same place Kuvira was auditioning. The rest... well, she had to admit the rest was mostly her fault.

She sighed and pulled the laptop closer.

_ Dear Korra,  _ she wrote.

_ A tease? Hm. I’d never thought of myself that way before. You think she thinks of me that way?  _

_ I don’t know about this “future Mrs. Fipbic” business, though. I think all of the mixed signals are caused by the simple fact that I’m uncertain as to whether I like her or I just want to like her because I think I should. _

_ The fact is that she’s beautiful and smart and talented and as far as I can tell, nice and sweet and thoughtful. She’s a Unicorn. She’s a mythical creature, possessing all of those amazingly perfect qualities that make you think, “Well, she can’t possibly be real.” _

_ Only she’s real and potentially interested in me and it turns out that maybe I don’t want a Unicorn. Maybe I want a perfectly ordinary horse. Or... perhaps I’m after a totally different mythical creature. Like... a siren. Or a... fairy. Well, I digress. Do you see what I’m saying, though? Good. Explain it back to me. _

_ So I see your passion for seaweed noodles. _

_ They were actually my favorite food for about a month. But then it wasn’t anymore. I decided caesar salad was way better. I actually have a wonderful recipe for seaweed noodles if you want. _

_ Your toilet paper story made me laugh. I do think you rather odd. But in a good way. _

_ My toilet paper is white. Would you like a square? :) _

_ And I do like cashews. I prefer peanuts though. _

_ And here’s where I confess something you might not actually believe: I’ve never read Harry Potter. I know, I know. I just... haven’t. Maybe I will finally get around to it. _

_ The Discworld series, though, I love. Have you read anything by Douglas Adams? The whole Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is wonderfully funny. I was actually talking about it with Ms. Fipbic the other day. _

_ I can’t believe you have me calling her that. My friend Opal nicknamed her ‘Neo’ for reasons that elude me. _

_ Oh, you asked about my wish list. Hm. None of the things I really want are material. I think I just want to find my mythical creature. No, let me amend that: I want to figure out what it is I want. _

_ Christmas is in two days. This year has gone fast. _

_ What’s on your wish list? _

_ Your friend, _

_ Sami _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed these email exchanges. 
> 
> Also, surprise! Today is a 2 in 1 day! It’s 1am here rn, so it’s technically November 13th. Chapter 30 will be up shortly after I wake up hehe.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

It snowed heavily and steadily on Christmas Eve, ruining plans across New York City. The snow continued to fall even hours after her mom had phoned to say the food would keep until the next day and not to bother setting out. Korra had been secretly relieved. She was content to sit in her bedroom, watching as the normally bleak and dreary world outside her window disappeared beneath mountains of white.

Across the street, her neighbor obsessively shoveled snow off his stoop, only to have it accumulate again moments later. Korra stared, fascinated by the sight of the old man in the big blue coat struggling against the inevitable.

She smiled and hugged the blanket around her shoulders tightly, trying to get warm. She was grateful for the snow; grateful that she was home, instead of out there; grateful for the simple things. She thought of Mako for the first time in a long time and wondered how he was. Was he happy? Was he well? The questions drifted in and out of her mind without answers and she found she didn’t care.

Kuvira knocked once and then opened the door without waiting. She walked in, wearing a Santa hat and Christmas tree earrings that jingled as she walked.

“I made you some hot chocolate.” Kuvira held up a mug of steaming liquid and offered it to Korra.

Korra accepted the mug without hesitation. “That sounds heavenly, thanks.”

“Yeah, I added some miniature marshmallows,” Kuvira continued. “Oh and rum.”

Korra paused with the mug at her lips. She slowly brought it back down. “Sorry, did you say rum?”

“Yeah I found the recipe online. I thought it’d give it a nice kick.”

Korra frowned briefly but didn’t want to offend Kuvira.

“Also, there might be a carrot in there...”

“A carrot?”

“Yeah, it was an accident. I think I got it out, though. Mostly.” Korra put the mug down on her nightstand. “Thanks...”

“No problem. So, what do you want to watch first tonight? We’ve got the classics: A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol, the 1951 version, of course, not the other posers, It’s A Wonderful Life, White Christmas, and Miracle on 34th Street. I’ve also made enough popcorn to last at least three movies. So, whenever you’re ready...”

Korra bit her lip. “Actually, can I have a few minutes? I’ve been meaning to email some people back. Shouldn’t take long.”

“See ya in a bit then.” Kuvira shut the door on her way out.

Korra stole another glance out the window. The man remained unwavering in his attempts to clear the snow from his front steps, and Korra briefly envied his determination.

She moved to the bed, and sat down, pulling the computer onto her lap. She emailed random people back wishing them a Merry Christmas. And though she knew that Kuvira was waiting for her, she found herself opening an email to Sami.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ I hope this Christmas Eve finds you well. I can’t write much because Kuvira is waiting for me for our annual Christmas moviethon, and I really have to figure out a way to subtly dispose of the carrot & rum hot chocolate she made me, but I really wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas in case I don’t get a chance to write to you tomorrow.  _

_ It’s snowing here. It’s snowing so hard that everything is now white and sparkly and beautiful. I should take a picture now before it all starts to melt and turn to slush. Christmas plans at my folks’ were cancelled due to the weather and I can’t say that I mind all that much. I’m happy here in my cold apartment, spying on crazy neighbors and watching black and white movies with Kuvira. _

_ What are you up to today? Making dinner for your friends, I think you mentioned. What are you making? _

_ I really don’t believe you at all about Harry Potter. You must have read the books and then banged your head and forgotten you read them. You must have amnesia. How many fingers am I holding up? _

_ (Go out and get Harry Potter at once – you weirdo!) _

Korra paused in her typing because Kuvira was at the door again.

“The popcorn’s getting cold,” Kuvira whined from the doorway.

“You know you’re just going to end up throwing it at the TV anyway,” Korra said.

Kuvira snapped her fingers. “Good point.” She left again, and Korra shook her head.

She continued.

_ Anyway, regarding Ms. Fipbic, it seems to me that perhaps you’re just scared to like her because you’re – as you said – a n00b (sorry, that’s a Mako-ism) at love and maybe you’re worried that you’ll – I don’t know – suck in bed (er, so to speak). ;) Or! Maybe you’re intimidated by her Mythical Creatureness. _

_ Or maybe you just don’t want a Unicorn. _

_ Though you know, people are hardly ever as perfect as they seem. It’s possible that she’s a completely ordinary horse when you get close enough. Or maybe she had an accident when she was young and got a tree branch stuck in her forehead and so it LOOKS like she’s a unicorn but really she just has a piece of wood sticking out of her head. _

_ Though perhaps you don’t want to be dating someone with a piece of wood sticking out of their head... _

_ Never mind. I think I lost the metaphor somewhere. _

_ My point was something along the lines of: don’t force yourself to like her if you really don’t like her, but don’t dismiss her on account of a perception. Especially since I think you said you didn’t know her very well. She might be full of perfectly loveable flaws. _

_ Anyway, I really have to go or Kuvira is going to dump her bucket of popcorn on my head. Merry Christmas!! _

_ Your friend, _

_ Korra _

_ PS: I’d say yes to the seaweed noodles recipe except I’ve decided to give up cooking – I’m really just not good at it and punishing people by making them eat my food is terribly cruel. Thanks, though. :) _

***

“... and then my friend called to say his wife is pregnant again, which is just... stupid. And I said congratulations but what I really meant to say was, ‘Good going, idiot, you can barely support the other three you have’...’”

Asami nodded at Opal’s story while slicing tomatoes. Somewhere in the living room, Bolin was yelling at the TV, and Opal stopped talking long enough to yell at him.

“I can’t believe he brought his Xbox here,” Opal said to Asami. “I swear, sometimes, I really think he’s twelve. Are you sure I can’t help you with anything? I feel so useless.”

“You can pour me some more wine,” Asami said, and tossed the tomatoes into a pan. “It’s my fault, anyway, I meant to have dinner ready by the time you guys got here, and I got stuck on the phone for like four hours. Lin really needs to get a life. Who wants to discuss work on Christmas Eve?” 

Opal snorted and filled Asami’s glass. “You know her girlfriend left her? She’s always been obsessive but now since she’s been single it’s even worse. I think she is seeing this girl named Kya though. What did she possibly have to say for four hours though?”

“Oh, it wasn’t just her. It was Cynthia, too. She wanted to talk about some charity auction thing she wants me to do after New Year’s. And then my father called from Paris to say they were having a great time and that it wasn’t too late to join them. And then Lin called again because she’s got a wonderful script she wants me to read. And then my real estate agent called to say she found me a fabulous apartment in New York. And then Lin called one more time because some Scottish people want me for an ad campaign. Finally I just had to shut off my phone. Which reminds me I should really hire a manager.”

“You’ve fired how many now?”

“Four. They were all imbeciles. I need someone I can trust.”

“Hire Bolin,” Opal suggested.

Bolin chose that moment to shout, “Take that you pre-pubescent asshat!... Oh that’s right! Go cry to your mommy!”

Asami and Opal looked at each other and laughed.

“Who is he talking to?”

Opal shrugged. “Who knows. Some ten-year-old on Xbox Live probably.”

Asami shook her head and returned to the business of cooking, while Opal went on about Bolin’s gaming adventures. Her mind drifted to Korra’s last email, snippets of which began to pop into her head as she moved around the kitchen.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Opal said suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“You weren’t listening to a word I was saying were you?” Opal grinned. “Were you thinking of Taylor?”

“Don’t you mean ‘Neo’?”

“Not unless you have her hidden around here somewhere.” Opal leaned against the island. “So?”

“So?”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Asami!”

The actress shrugged. “It was nothing. Korra just said some funny things in her last email.”

“Ah, Korra.” Opal began to nod. “Wait, is she the reason you called the other day to ask something about stalking?”

“Yes, right before you hung up on me.”

Opal laughed. “Sorry. I was half asleep. So you’re stalking her now? I didn’t peg you for the stalker-lesbian type.”

Asami stopped stirring the food and looked at Opal. “I think New York makes me insane. Now that I’m back here I feel normal. I feel like everything is where it should be. I go there, and suddenly I’m stalking artists and dating directors and eating hotdogs.” She resumed the stirring. “Maybe doing this movie was a bad idea.”

“You’re going to be fine.”

Asami sighed. “I need to tell her the truth.”

Opal shrugged. “And then you’ll still be fine. Even if things suck for a while, you’ll still be fine. Trust me.”

Asami nodded. Then she looked up again and smiled. “She has a collection of toilet paper. And normally I would find that really weird, but with her I don’t. With her, it’s fitting. With her, I think it’s adorable.”

“Like rolls of toilet paper?” 

“No, no. Just squares, from random bathrooms.”

“You have a really strange taste in women.”

Asami sighed. “But see, that’s the thing. I don’t want to find these things adorable. I don’t want to wonder things like ‘does she like hotdogs’ in the middle of a date with someone else. I don’t want to spend half the night thinking about how cute she looked at the theater, or how beautiful she looked at the gallery, or how insane I am for asking her to paint things for me just because I wanted an excuse to be closer to her, and a justification for why I was following her. I just want to... not feel this way. How do I stop feeling this way?”

“Can’t help you there.”

Asami sighed and picked up her glass of wine. She took a sip and put it back down. “I thought maybe if I could just stop writing to her... but I can’t. And then there’s Taylor.”

“What about her?”

“I kind of swung the door open to the possibility of more with her and now I don’t know if I should slam it shut again or see what happens. I’m not even sure how into me she is.”

“Oh, she’s into you,” Opal said with a snort. “You could always just tell her you don’t want anything serious and just sleep with her.”

“You’re starting to sound like Bolin.”

“Well, it’s true. She’d be perfect. She’s hot, she’s nice, she’s experienced, and you can trust her not to out you to the world.”

“And you need to get laid,” Bolin added, walking into the kitchen. “I was this close to getting you a call girl for Christmas.”

“Okay I was wrong, that’s the most depressing thing you’ve ever said to me.”

***

Asami sat in bed some hours later, absently flipping through the TV channels before settling on a cooking show. Bolin and Opal had decided to spend the night, and though they’d blamed the alcohol, Asami knew that they’d planned it all along so that she wouldn’t be alone on Christmas morning.

She looked forward to sitting in the living room the following morning, opening presents and basking in the fleeting fulfillment of material things. They would like their gifts, Asami knew, but she wondered what her friends really wanted for Christmas. What did they yearn for in their most private hour? Probably nothing she could wrap with a bow.

On the TV, a woman cracked an egg open and told Asami the key to making the perfect omelet. She listened for a moment, letting the soothing voice and flickering images fill her mind.

And then she thought of Korra. She thought of her own personal meltdown back in New York at the concept of Korra thinking her an idiot. She replayed their conversation at the gallery in her mind, followed by the one at the auditions. She wondered at the impression she’d made.

She wondered if Korra thought her as silly as she thought herself. And then she tried to imagine what Korra might do if Asami told her the truth.

She was past worrying about Korra outing her to the press, though the fear of that still lingered somewhere in the back of her mind. Far more upsetting to think about was the very likely possibility that Korra might never speak to her again. Far more terrifying than a parade of headlines questioning her sexuality was the thought of there never being another email from Korra in her inbox.

And that, in itself, was what kept her up at night. A crush she could deal with. She’d had those before; on acquaintances, on fellow actresses, on women at the set. But this fear of losing something that wasn’t hers to begin with was something new; something more. And she could only hope that it would pass quickly by, leaving her unscarred.

She reached for the computer and stared at the email from Korra she’d left open on the screen. She smiled as she read over parts of it and was smiling still when she began her reply.

_ Dear Korra, _

_ Merry Christmas! I hope your moviethon went well. It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those. _

_ Over here, it’s a little past two in the morning and I was just sitting here watching a lady on TV teach me how to make omelets when I remembered that it was my turn to reply. _

_ My evening was full of friendly banter and good company and entirely too much wine. My friends decided to spend the night here and I’m grateful for their company. It would’ve been a very lonely Christmas morning otherwise. _

_ I envy you and the snow. Not much chance of a white Christmas here in sunny L.A. You should definitely take pictures so I can live vicariously through you. :) _

_ On the issue of Harry Potter I guess I must have banged my head then, if you insist! And as far as I can see, you’re holding up... eleven fingers. _

_ And I’ll make you a deal: I’ll read Harry Potter if you read The Poisonwood Bible. And if I make it to the second book, then you have to read The Color Purple. _

_ Deal? :) _

_ Your take on Saucy’s mythical creatureness amused me. Maybe you’re right and she’s a perfectly ordinary horse with a slab of wood in her forehead. And maybe I shouldn’t dismiss her so quickly on what could very well be a misperception. I did, after all, tell her that our last outing was a date, so I should at least follow that up with something less ... cryptic. _

_ But enough about me – what ever happened with that guy your friend tried to set you up with? You haven’t mentioned him in a while. _

_ And random question of the day: What’s your favorite sound? I’ll leave you to ponder that. _

_ Merry Christmas, Korra. _

_ Your friend, _

_ S. _

_ PS: You never told me what was on your wishlist! _

***

The Christmas movie marathon ended sometime after four in the morning and despite the late hour Korra couldn’t sleep. She blamed the inordinate quantities of caffeine and junk food she’d consumed throughout the night. She blamed the cold. She blamed the full moon – though she wasn’t entirely sure that there was one.

She watched the shadows on the ceiling flicker with the passing of cars. She thought briefly of Asami Sato and the call she was now certain would never come. And she couldn’t decide whether or not she was disappointed. She thought of Kuvira and Tara and Megan and how much she looked forward to having them all in the same room for New Year’s.

And then she thought of Sami, who she still didn’t know much about. What was she doing now, at that moment? Was she having fun? Was she happy? Was she even still awake?

The thought of Sami comforted her; the thought of her emails made Korra smile. And after a moment, Korra picked up the computer from the floor and turned it on.

Some of the people she emailed back early responded with brief messages and different variations of “Merry Christmas.” She was far more interested in Sami’s latest email, which Korra had secretly hoped for, but hadn’t really expected.

_ Dear Sami, _

_ It’s nearing 6AM here and I’m still wide awake. The moviethon was great fun but I’m now regretting the Gilmore Girls-esque junk food fest that Kuvira prepared. Have you ever had Nutella, sliced bananas, m&ms, peanut butter, marshmallows, licorice, whipped cream and gummy bears all sandwiched together between two giant chocolate chip cookies? _

_ Here’s my advice: don’t do it! _

_ I’m so going to hate my life in a few hours. I can’t sleep. My stomach is starting to hurt. And both Kuvira and I are due at my parents’ at 11:30. I’d kill for a clone of myself today. _

_ Oh, and by the way, you’re on. I’ll track down the Poisontree Bible or whatever it was called tomorrow. Well, not the tomorrow that is today because I haven’t gone to sleep yet, but rather the tomorrow that actually is tomorrow because today is already today. Got that? _

_ I’m glad you’ve decided to give Saucy a shot. I have a feeling the two of you are going to be really happy together. _

_ You know, it occurs to me that if you actually start dating her and fall madly in love with her, we’ll have to stop calling her Saucy. What was her real name again? Teya? _

_ Anyway, the snow has stopped, much to my disappointment. I hate to admit this, but a part of me was hoping for a blizzard so I could sleep in today, which is horrible because it’s Christmas and I should want to be with my family. But at this moment, the thought of going outside into the cold, slushy, icy world is terribly unappealing. Especially while dragging along a bunch of presents. _

_ Oh, my wish list! Right. I had forgotten you asked about that. Well, I asked for art supplies mostly because they’re expensive and I tend to go through them really quickly. _

_ But in the grand scheme of things... hmm... I want a lot of things, I think. I want my family to support my choices. I want them to stop treating Tara like some kind of vermin. I want Kuvira to get a good role in something, in anything, as long as it makes her happy. _

_ I want world peace. :) _

_ I do hope you figure out what you want. Sometimes I think I don’t know myself but then it seems clear. I want to be happy and I want those I love to be happy which seems kind of lame, I know, but isn’t that what we all want, really? _

_ But I guess if we experienced happiness as a constant thing then we’d start to take it for granted and so maybe it’s best to wish for a healthy balance of the two. Though it seems terrible to wish someone unhappiness just because you don’t want them to be greedy with the happiness. So you have to wish them happiness and then think quietly to yourself, ‘But not TOO much.’ _

_ I’m sorry, it’s late and I’m rambling nonsensically. I should try to sleep. _

_ I do wish you happiness, Sami. And maybe there’s no such thing as too much. Merry Christmas. :) _

_ Your friend, _

_ Korra _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asami has it BAD for Korra :)
> 
> Sorry for uploading it a little bit late. I forgot I was volunteering at the food bank this morning lol


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The phone rang early on January 1st, which no one had expected mainly because such things shouldn’t happen, and though Korra was the furthest from the phone, she was the only one that dragged herself out of bed to answer it.

Tara and Megan had come prepared to spend the night and their inflatable mattress now took up most of the living room. But Korra smiled at the sight of them snuggled up under the covers, oblivious to the sound of the ringing phone, or perhaps just too hung over.

“Hello?” she said, hiding her annoyance, or at least trying to.

The voice at the other end of the phone sounded entirely too awake. “Hi! Is this Kuvira? My name is Jacob Ryans and I’m the director of Little Purple Butterflies, which you might’ve heard of. Anyhoo, Sierra Murphy gave me your number. She’s the casting director for Summer’s Dance and a good friend of mine, and she told me you would be absolutely perfect for my lead. Which is fabulous because I really need a lead. I know it’s a holiday and all but I was hoping you’d be available for coffee or maybe brunch so we could talk about the film and everything. What do you say?”

Korra rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “I’m sorry, this isn’t Kuvira. Hang on.” She knocked on Kuvira’s door, too tired to wrap her mind around everything the guy had said to her. When Kuvira didn’t answer, Korra knocked harder, and heard a groan from somewhere in the living room. Exasperated, she turned the handle and walked in.

Kuvira’s room was a mess of clothes and papers, and the bed was a rainbow of laundry that might’ve been clean or dirty or a combination of both. Korra crawled on the bed and dug Kuvira’s arm from beneath the covers. Her best friend moaned in protest as Korra put the phone in her hand. “Phone call,” Korra said.

“I’ll call back,” Kuvira mumbled.

“It’s a film director.”

Kuvira was up in a flash, as though the words had been infused with caffeine or perhaps electricity. “Hello? Hi? This is Kuvira.”

Korra smiled to herself and left Kuvira to her phone call.

In the living room, Tara was stretching. “How much did we drink last night?”

Korra smiled at her sister. “Entirely too much.” She looked down at the mattress to see that Megan was still sleeping. To Tara, she said, “Coffee?”

“I knew I loved you for a reason,” Tara said, yawning. She followed Korra into the kitchen. “Did I hear the phone?”

“Some film director,” Korra said, realizing after saying it that she should’ve sounded more excited. “I’ll, um, give that the proper intonation it deserves after I get some caffeine in my system.”

Tara looked surprised. “A film director, really? I better get Kuvira’s autograph now before she starts to forget the little people.”

Korra smiled and turned to the business of making coffee. She’d drank less alcohol than the rest of them during their big New Year’s extravaganza, but her head was still killing her.

Tara sat at the table and Korra saw her looking at the book she’d left there. “The Poisonwood Bible,” she read off the cover. “I think I read this in college. Is it still on the syllabus?”

She hadn’t told her sister about Sami. Didn’t really know what to tell her, except, “This girl I met online recommended it.”

“You’ve been hanging out in chat rooms lately?”

“Not exactly. She bought a painting from me a while back and emailed to say she liked it. We hit it off.”

Tara smiled and flipped through the book. “That was nice of her.”

Korra nodded and found herself smiling. “Yeah, she’s really nice. She’s kind of private, though. I don’t know her that well, like what she does for a living.” She filled the mugs with coffee and joined Tara at the table. “But then she tells me things like... that she’s gay. And that she’s never been with anyone ever. And that she’s never read Harry Potter or been to Paris. And it makes me think about what’s really important to know about a person, you know?”

Tara was looking at her curiously. “So what’s important to know about a person?”

Korra shrugged and looked down at the dark liquid in her cup. “I told her about my toilet paper collection.”

Tara chuckled. “Man, I’d forgotten about that.”

“She must think I’m such a freak.”

“You are a freak.”

“I never even told Mako about that.”

Tara was quiet for a moment while she sipped her coffee. “So it’s definitely over between the two of you?”

“Couldn’t possibly be more over.” She smiled to show that this was a good thing. Then she took a deep breath. “He was seeing some other girl.”

“I always knew he was a bastard.”

“Yeah, well, it was for the best. At least I don’t have to feel guilty for not loving him. It makes it easier, in the end, to think of it as his fault.”

“So are you seeing anyone now?”

Korra shook her head. “Not really. There’s this guy Adam that Kuvira set me up with, and he’s really nice and everything. We talk occasionally. But I don’t know.”

“No spark?”

“I guess. I like talking to him, and he’s an artist. But... yeah. I don’t know. He’s kind of flat. You know, boring.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a horrible thing to say, I think.”

Tara only smiled. Then she said, “So you’re looking for someone more exciting.”

Korra shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m really looking, honestly. But, I guess. Not a daredevil or anything, but someone... I don’t know. Unpredictable. Maybe.” She frowned and shook her head. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

There was movement in the living room, and then, “Do I smell coffee?” Megan stumbled into the kitchen a moment later and stole Tara’s mug. She sat down at the table and took a long sip. “Mmmm.”

“Hey!” Tara grabbed the mug back. “Get your own!”

Megan pouted.

Korra smiled and got up to get another cup. “So guess who Kuvira and I met.”

“Brad Pitt?” was Megan's guess.

“George Clooney?” was Tara’s.

Korra returned to the table and handed Megan some coffee. “Asami Sato,” she said.

“Get out!” said Megan, her jaw dropping. “I love her.” She turned to Tara. “Don’t I love her?”

“We both love her,” Tara said.

Megan leaned forward in her chair. “She's amazing in everything. What was she wearing? Tell me everything.”

Korra frowned briefly. “Uh...”

“How’d you meet her? Where? When?

”“She was actually at the gallery that night you guys couldn’t make it,” Korra said.

“Get out!”

Korra shrugged apologetically. “So unfair. What’d she say?”

“She loved my art,” Korra said, letting herself feel proud. “Then I randomly ran into her a few days later, and she said she wanted me to paint some stuff for her new apartment.”

Megan stared at her in shock. “Okay, you’re making this up.”

“I’m not!”

Tara shook her head and picked up her coffee. “I don’t believe you.”

Korra grinned. “Of course, that assumes that she still remembers who I am and ever actually calls me. But it was really flattering at the time.”

Kuvira walked out of her room and joined them a second later, still holding on to the phone. “Guess who’s starring in a short film?”

There was a chorus of cheers across the table that came to a halt when they realized how much it hurt their heads to actually speak above a whisper.

Kuvira helped herself to the coffee and sat down at the table. “I’m meeting with the director for a late brunch so we can discuss my part.”

Megan grinned. “That’s quite a way to start the new year.”

“Tell me about it.” Kuvira smiled brightly and sighed happily as she settled in the chair.

Korra had a sudden feeling that it was going to be a very interesting year.

***

Asami awoke to the sound of her cell phone vibrating on her nightstand and though it took her a long moment to decipher the true nature of the buzzing sound, she managed to breathe a groggy, “Hello?” before anyone hung up.  


“What did you mean by ‘it might’ve been a date’?”

The sound of Taylor’s voice woke Asami up slightly, and she rolled over and sat up. “Uh...”

“I mean, were you still not sure when you said that, or were you just trying to drive me insane? I’m okay with either.”

Asami rubbed her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear in an attempt to stall. “Maybe both,” she said finally.

Taylor laughed. “Good enough. So, um, I’m in L.A. for a couple of weeks and I was hoping I could accidentally bump into you somewhere. If you’re interested in being bumped into.”

Asami didn’t know what she wanted. Maybe eggs. Eggs and bacon sounded good. Anything beyond a breakfast menu was beyond her right then. “I’ve got a photo shoot today and then I’m back on the Guardian set tomorrow and we’re filming straight through until the end of the month. You might be able to catch me by the catering cart if you’re lucky.” She paused a moment to think about her schedule more seriously. “I’m being auctioned off next week at a celebrity charity thing.”

“Does the winner get to date you?”

“The winner gets to sit at a table with me and talk to me for all of ten minutes while a bunch of other people stand around and make sure said winner doesn’t prove to be a psycho. Very exciting stuff. But there’s bound to be a really boring party afterwards.”

Taylor’s laugh was soft. “Maybe I’ll stop by then. I love boring parties.”

“Be careful, though. They might want to auction you off, too.”

“No one would bid on me.”

Asami hesitated but said, “I would.”

There was silence in which Taylor could’ve either been smiling or rolling her eyes or maybe a combination of the two. Finally, the director said, “Hmm.”

Asami fell back against the pillows. “Very articulate.”

There was the soft laugh again, followed by, “Yes, well.” Taylor cleared her throat. “Actually there was another reason I was calling.”

“Yes?”

“It’s looking very likely that I’ll be playing Samantha, and I can’t decide if that maybe means we shouldn’t be accidentally bumping into each other places.”

Asami frowned briefly. “So you’re calling to say you want to see me, to find out if I want to see you, and also to tell me that maybe we shouldn’t want to see each other?”

Taylor laughed. “It sounds kinda crazy when you put it that way. I want to see you. I want you to want to see me. I just don’t know if it’s the best idea.”

Asami was shaking her head. Of course it wasn’t the best idea. “So, what do you propose?”

“How about we see where we are after we’re done shooting?”

“Sounds good.”

There was a pause, and then, “I may still accidentally bump into you at that charity thing.”

“You’re a very confusing woman.”

“Guess we’re even.”

Asami smiled at that. “See you around, Ms. Rose.”

“Bye, Ms. Sato.” 

Asami stared at the phone long after they’d hung up, unsure of how to feel. She placed it back on the nightstand and looked around the room, taking in the sunlight pouring in from the balcony. It was only 9AM, which gave her a few hours to relax before posing for the camera. She hated photo shoots. She hated the interviews that came with them. She hated how phony she seemed in her attempts to sound genuine.

She’d fallen asleep with the laptop beside her and she pulled it closer and turned it on. Before long, she was starting an email to Korra. In the subject line she wrote, “Women are confusing.”

_ Dear Korra, _

_ I just had a phone conversation with Saucy that went sort of like this: _

_ Her: I want to see you again. When can I see you again? _

_ Me: How about at this place on this day? _

_ Her: Great. I’ll be there. _

_ Me: Looking forward to it. _

_ Her: Actually, I was really calling to say maybe we shouldn’t see each other. _

_ Me: So, you want to see me but not see me? _

_ Her: Yep. _

_ Me: Okay then. _

_ Her: But I’ll still probably see you at that place. _

_ Me: ... _

_ So there you have it. _

_ So basically she thinks us getting romantically involved might negatively impact our working relationship – which makes perfect sense. But then she still wants to see me? I crown Saucy Fipbic the new Queen of Mixed Signals. _

_ But anyway. _

_ I start work again tomorrow. Today, really, which means my emails are likely to slow down in frequency and quantity. I apologize ahead of time. It’s very time consuming hiding all those dead bodies. ;) _

_ Anyway, I should run. Gotta get the rope and the duct tape ready. _

_ All the best in the new year. I don’t think there’s such a thing as too much happiness. :) _

_ Your friend, _

_ S. _

_ P.S. I started reading Harry Potter. _

***

Korra sat at Washington Square Park sipping coffee and reading The Poisonwood Bible. It was cold, too cold to be sitting outside, but Korra didn’t mind. She enjoyed the feel of the icy breeze on her face. She liked the smell of melting snow. She loved New York in the winter.

Even in gloomy weather, Korra still found it beautiful.

The book was good. Different than the sort of books Korra read, in the rare occasions when she did read. Mainly, she liked going over the words and thinking of Sami having read them before her. It made her want to read Harry Potter again, too, and experience it anew. She wondered if Sami was enjoying it, or if she’d put it aside and forgotten about it.

Her online friend hadn’t lied when she’d said that her emails would wane in frequency. It had been over a week since the last one, and Korra missed turning on her computer to find an email from Sami waiting there. She’d decided, instead, to throw herself into the business of reading Sami’s favorite books. She’d bought The Color Purple along with the other, knowing she would want to read it even if Sami didn’t make it through the Harry Potter experience.

School didn’t start up again for another week, and her artistic inspiration was once again at a standstill. The money from the artwork she’d sold at the gallery had come through and she’d stared at the check for a long time, unsure whether to deposit it or simply frame it. She’d deposited it, in the end, because the money was useful, but the entire time she’d stood in line at the bank she’d felt a sense of wonder that someone had paid nearly $3000 for her work.

She thought of Asami Sato then, and let herself feel flattered by the compliments the actress had paid her. Even if the call never came, she was still grateful for the sentiment behind the offer. And if she was honest, a part of her hoped the call never would come. She didn’t want to disappoint the actress if she should find herself completely devoid of inspiration.

The artist finished her coffee and tossed the cup into the garbage can beside her. After a moment, she returned to the book.

***

Asami stood by the bar, waiting for a refill on her champagne. Beside her, one of her co-stars from Guardian went on about his holidays abroad. She thanked the bartender and turned her full attention to the young guy beside her, who was still working up the nerve, she knew, to ask her out.

“So what did you get up to?” he asked, dark hair sliding over hazel eyes. “Any fun parties? I heard Jeff Sark threw a crazy wild one for New Year’s. Did you go?”

He was bordering drunk, the fact evident by how close he was standing, but Asami didn’t mind. Having him by her side meant few others would saunter up to her. Greg was beautiful in a way most others found intimidating. “I missed it, actually. I had a small gathering at home.”

He smiled in the way he knew made most women melt. “So I heard you and Bolin finally broke up.”

“Interesting segue,” Asami said, picking up her glass.

“He’s an idiot for letting you go,” Greg said, undeterred. He leaned against the bar and swirled the liquid in his glass around. “I never liked him.”

“Dirty martini, please,” someone said behind her, and Asami recognized the voice immediately.

She almost smiled, but didn’t turn around. “Yeah, I don’t know what it is about directors I find so appealing,” she told Greg.

“Bah. Stick to actors. We’ll treat you right. Speaking of which, Asami, I was actually meaning to ask if you’d like to come to a party I’m hosting next weekend? It’s small... intimate.” He smiled that smile again.

“I’ll have to check my calendar, but if I’m free, sure,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t be free. Taylor chose that moment to cross her field of vision, martini in hand. “Taylor,” she called.

The director turned her way and smiled in greeting. “Asami, hi. Didn’t see you there.”

Asami knew that was a lie. “Greg, do you know Taylor Rose? I’ll be starring in her next film.”

They shook hands, and Greg grinned. “If you’re looking for a male lead...”

Taylor smiled in return. “It’s more of a girl-on-girl thing,” she said, and Asami nearly choked on her drink.

Greg laughed. “Never mind then. That’s great though. I’ll be watching. If Asami’s in it, I’m there.” He winked in Asami’s direction. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ve got to go to the little boy’s room.”

They watched him go, and Asami turned to Taylor. “I almost didn’t think you’d show.”

“I almost didn’t,” Taylor admitted, coming to stand where Greg had been. “But then I thought, ‘it’s for a good cause, so...’”

Asami grinned. “Do you even know what the cause is?”

“You know, I actually don’t. And I gave a huge check at the entrance. Tell me it’s not for something like... handing out make-up to underprivileged poodles?”

“That’s next week,” Asami said, with a laugh. She sipped her champagne, and was glad, suddenly, that Taylor had shown. She didn’t know what it meant for them, but she liked having the director there. “It’s for a children’s hospital, actually.”

Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. So how much did you go for? I missed the exciting stuff.”

“Twenty-five grand.”

Taylor whistled. “For ten minutes of your time?” 

Asami nodded. “Crazy, I know. And the guy spent the first five minutes staring at me, and the other five babbling incoherently about... fishing, I think?”

“Poor guy,” Taylor said. “That’s what you get for being so beautiful.” She said the last part in a whisper, but Asami heard her anyway.

Asami didn’t embarrass easily, but she was suddenly at a loss for words. She looked at the director, dressed in her black suit, with her long brown hair loose around her shoulders, and decided to change the subject. “You look like you’re on your way to a corporate meeting.”

Taylor shook her head, and glanced down at herself. “I just got out of one, actually, with a bunch of stuffy men in suits. I can’t wait to change out of this.”

Asami only nodded. After a moment of silence, she said, “Taylor, why did you come?”

The director looked at her but hesitated. “You really want to talk about this here?”

Asami looked around. Greg was making his way back toward them, and she suddenly felt tired. “Can I give you a ride back to your hotel?”

Taylor nodded. “Sure.”

Greg reached them. “Who’s up for an afterparty?”

“We’re actually heading out,” Asami said to him. “When do you sleep? We’ve got to be at the set in like five hours.”

Greg grinned brightly. “That’s when not being the star comes in handy. I’ll crash in my trailer between takes. Don’t you worry about me. Let me walk the two of you out.”

Outside, her limo was waiting for her, along with Samuel, her chauffeur, and half of Hollywood’s paparazzi. The cameras flashed as they walked out and Asami could only imagine what the blog headlines would be saying in the morning. It didn’t help matters any that Greg had opted to put his arm around her as they’d walked out.

Samuel opened the door as they approached and greeted them cordially.

Taylor climbed into the car.

Asami turned to Greg and said, “See you tomorrow.”

He kissed her cheek just as a camera flashed in their direction. And then the door closed and she and Taylor were alone.

“This is going to be all over the Internet tomorrow,” Asami said, shaking her head. She lowered the partition once she knew Samuel had climbed into the driver’s seat. To Taylor she asked, “Where can we drop you?”

“Beverly Hills Hotel.”

Samuel waved a hand to mean that he’d understood, and the partition went up again.

“Fancy,” Asami said, referring to the hotel.

“Wasn’t my idea,” Taylor replied, settling into the plush leather seats. “I’m meeting with a studio about a potential TV show that may or may not happen. We’ll see. It’s in the can’t-jinx-it-by-talking-about-it stage.”

Asami nodded, understanding. “So.”

“I have no idea why I came,” Taylor blurted. “I was in that meeting and the only thing I could think about was how nice it would be to see you again. And I know that I’m all over the place with the signals and you must think me totally insane. There’s just this part of me that wants to keep things strictly professional and then there’s this other part of me that can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

Asami’s heart began to pound furiously in her chest at the words and the images that accompanied them. It would be so simple to lean over and kiss the director, to forget reality for a short while and give in to her curiosity, perhaps even her desire. But what then? She looked away, at the lights passing by her window. “It would be selfish of me to kiss you,” she said softly, “because I want to, but beyond that, I don’t know what I want.” She turned to look at the director. “I do know that I don’t want to gamble with this film.”

Taylor smiled softly. “Neither do I.”

Asami felt a wave of relief. “So... friends?” 

“Friends,” Taylor agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have just left the train station folks. Next stop, korrasami town.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra glanced at the time on her cell phone as she hurried out of the Barney Building. Class had ended early, for a change. The professor’s obsession with a certain Tuesday night television show meant that class was held in turbo speed.

“Hey, beautiful,” a voice said near her ear, and Korra turned to see Adam standing there.

She smiled. “Hey stranger,” she said, as he fell in step beside her. “Long time no see.”

“I kept meaning to call and say hi, but family holiday stuff, you know? How are your classes this semester?”

He’d cut his hair, Korra noticed. The sides were shaved off and the top was spiked. She thought it made his eyes look browner somehow. “Art & Contemporary Culture is going to kick my ass. I’m sure of it. The rest are okay. What about you?”

“Lots of electives. I’m loving Media Fundamentals, though. I opted for Digital Art.”

“Bold move for a sculptor.” She smiled. “Are you headed to class?”

“I’ve got Psych in a couple of hours,” he said. “You?”

“I’m done, thankfully. I’m meeting Kuvira in Central Park. Did she tell you? She’s shooting a film there.”

“No kidding?” He looked impressed. “That’s awesome. I hadn’t talked to her in a while.”

“Yeah, I think today’s the last day, though. I’m Kuvira’s date to the wrap-up party.”

“Kuvira’s got good taste.” He grinned in a way that managed to look sweet, somehow, and Korra looked away, feeling shy all of a sudden.

They came to a stop at 3rd Avenue. “I’m headed to Lafayette,” Korra told him.

“I’m gonna get something to eat before class. We should get together sometime,” he said, looking hopeful.

“That’d be nice. Give me a call?”

“Count on it.”

They headed in opposite directions, and Korra stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket to keep them from freezing. Despite her love of winter, she was looking forward to spring. The muddy piles of snow and leafless trees were beginning to depress her. And it was only the first week of February.

Her phone began to chime somewhere inside her messenger bag, with a tune assigned to unknown numbers. She dug the object from the depths of her bag, and stared at the unfamiliar number on the display screen. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Korra?” a female voice asked.

“This is me, well, her.” Korra rolled her eyes at herself. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m Opal, Asami Sato’s assistant. Do you have a moment?”

Korra halted in her steps, and nearly got trampled by a stroller. She got out of the way, and quickly said, “Ah, yeah! Sure. I mean, I do.”

“Ms. Sato was wondering if you were still interested in contributing your art to her new apartment?”

“Sure, yeah. I’d love to.” Korra rolled her eyes again, knowing she sounded like an idiot.

“Great. Would you be available to meet with her sometime this week?”

Korra’s stomach fluttered at the prospect of meeting with the actress. “Um, sure. I have classes but maybe after...” She paused, then said, “I’m free on Friday.”

“That works. How about Friday at two?”

“Great.”

“I’ll send you a text message with the address. Thanks for your time.”

“Take care.” Korra dropped the phone from her ear and shook her head. A minute later a text message came through with the details of the appointment and Korra stared at the series of letters and numbers in mild disbelief.

She snapped the cell phone closed and threw it back in her bag. Her hands were cold again and she rubbed them together before putting them back in her pockets. Then she hurried toward the subway station.

Somewhere along the way it hit her that the phone call she’d been both anticipating and dreading had finally come. She didn’t forget about me, Korra thought, as she headed down the stairs and into the warmth.

***

Asami stared expectantly at Opal the moment her assistant hung up the phone. “Well? What did she say? How did she sound?”

Opal lifted an eyebrow, looking amused as she put the phone down on the kitchen counter. “Like ... she’s terrified.” She regarded Asami seriously. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Yes,” Asami said. “And by yes, I mean of course not. If I thought this through I’d be forced to have myself committed.” She took a deep breath. “What do you mean by ‘terrified’?”

“Just that.”

Asami frowned. “Do I seem intimidating? I don’t want to intimidate her.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Opal shook her head and looked around. “I love this apartment.”

Asami allowed the change of topic, and surveyed her surroundings. She’d fallen in love with the apartment the second she’d seen the pictures. She loved the hardwood floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the state of the art kitchen, the gorgeous view. It had cost almost as much as her beach front property and it was worth every penny. “Do you think it comes across as pompous?” 

Opal glanced at her curiously. “Is this about Korra again?”

“No,” Asami lied. “Okay, maybe. I just don’t want her to think I’m a snob.”

“Asami, I doubt she thinks you live in a cardboard box.” Opal looked around again. “Besides you have no furniture. The only thing it comes across as is... empty.”

Asami smiled at that. “Like a canvas.”

Opal rolled her eyes. “Okay, on that note, I’m out of here. I have to go finish unpacking before Bolin gets here tomorrow.”

“Have fun.”

Opal disappeared out of view and a few seconds later, the sound of the door echoed through the apartment. Asami let the stillness settle before disrupting the silence with her movement. She climbed the stairs that led to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She turned the stereo on and let the radio pick the soundtrack for the evening.

Asami hadn’t brought much to New York. The bed was new. She’d had it delivered before arriving. The stereo, the flat-screen TV, the bedside tables, all of that she’d purchased in the days following her arrival. She wanted New York to feel like a fresh start.

KT Tunstall began to play just as her cell phone chimed and Asami grabbed it off the nightstand and checked her missed messages. She had only a text message. From Korra.

A.S. actually called. Sort of. Details later. Off 2 party w/ strangers. Ick.

Asami smiled and replied.

Have fun :)

She let the phone slide out of her hand and onto the covers. She wanted to pretend that she wasn’t petrified about Korra coming to her apartment. She wanted to pretend that she and Sami were entirely different people, and that she wasn’t actually lying to anyone but herself.

But none of that was the truth.

Korra would be stepping into the apartment in a few days and Asami Sato would be there to welcome her. And at some point, preferably before things got any more complicated than they already were, the truth would have to come out.

How or when, Asami had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, I forgot it was this short. Now I’m tempted to do another 2 in 1 day hmmm. How about this, I’ll let you guys decide. Would you rather me post chapter 33 when I wake up, or post it tomorrow night and do a double day for chapters 39 and 40? Lmk :)


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra stared up at the structure in front of her and let out a shaky breath. Finding Asami Sato’s apartment building hadn’t been hard. It was a brand new development on the Upper East Side and Korra had passed by it several times before and wondered what it would cost to live in such a place. She took in the sleek and modern architecture and tall, shiny windows and focused on breathing.

She glanced at the time on her cell. She was early, but not too early, and after a couple of calming breaths she made her way toward the doorman.

“Ms. Sato is waiting for you,” he said, after she’d convincingly proved her identity. He opened the door and tipped his hat.

Korra stepped inside. The lobby was busy with people in business suits talking on cells or with each other. There were chairs and couches that made Korra think of IKEA furniture but that probably cost much more. What am I doing here? Korra wondered as she started toward the elevators. She couldn’t have felt more out of place. She thought of her own building: dark and dingy and falling apart; the light past the front door flickering in and out. Any day now she’d walk in to find no light at all, and then it would take a week or so for the landlord to bother fixing it.

Korra called for the elevator.

A woman in a pink velour track suit walked up. She fixed her perfect blonde curls in the nearest reflection she could find and glanced Korra up and down out of the corner of her eye.

The doors opened and an older woman walked out yelling something at the two men behind her, who apologized severely for whatever infraction they’d committed. Their voices echoed in the lobby, mixing with the others in a chorus of pretention.

Korra stepped into the elevator after the track suit lady, who waited with a bored expression to see what button Korra pushed.

A model-perfect brow lifted slightly at the sight of the other lit button on the panel. “Are you sure you’ve got the right floor, honey? There’s only one apartment up there.”

The tone aimed for politeness, Korra guessed, but fell short. “I’m sure,” she said.

“I heard a movie star moved into the penthouse,” the lady said conversationally, her tone softening ever so slightly at the thought that perhaps she was standing beside someone who knew someone important.

Korra only offered a tight smile in reply, and waited quietly for the doors to open on the eleventh floor so the lady would leave. Nothing else was said between them, and the ride to Asami Sato’s penthouse apartment was blissfully free of interruptions.

The elevator doors opened into a brightly lit hallway and finding the actress’ door was simple enough. Knocking was decidedly harder, and Korra looked at the time again just to make sure she wasn’t late. She could always call and say she couldn’t make it after all, that life had thrown a curve ball and her time would be swallowed up by other matters. She could always change her mind. There were other artists. Better artists. Artists far better suited to this type of work and this type of lifestyle.

It would be a lot easier on everyone if Korra changed her mind before Asami Sato changed hers.

But then the door opened and Asami Sato was suddenly standing in front of her wearing a big red sweatshirt with the word “MIT” emblazoned at the center and baggy light blue jeans that were frayed at one knee. She looked so different that Korra almost didn’t recognize her.

The actress was looking at her apologetically. “You looked like you were about to bolt back to the elevator.”

Korra must have looked confused because the actress pointed to the camera above the door.

Of course, Korra thought.

“Please come in?” Asami Sato said in a tone that sounded almost like pleading. “I promise if you absolutely don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. But since you’re here...”

Yes, since I’m here, Korra thought and nodded, feeling embarrassed for being so transparent in her nervousness. The actress moved to the side, and Korra walked in, distracted instantly by the sight of the apartment. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high, and the windows stretched all the way up, leaving a clear view of Manhattan. The walls were pristine white and the floors were light, polished hardwood.

Everything was so beautiful that it took Korra a minute to realize that there was no furniture anywhere; no chairs, no couches, no tables. And then the smell of coffee reached her nose and she was distracted all over again.

“Would you like some coffee?” The actress had closed the door and was on the move. Korra noticed that she was barefoot and she wondered if she should take off her own shoes. She felt a bit like she was standing in a museum, though it was far warmer, and there was nothing to look at but a beautiful actress that at this moment looked very much like any other person; someone that might’ve sat beside her in class, or passed by her at a coffee shop.

And the thought of coffee reminded Korra that she’d been asked a question. “Um, sure. I’d love some,” she said, and followed the actress.

The kitchen was open, facing the incredible view of the city, and everything in it looked like it came out of a professional chef’s dream. Asami Sato might’ve not had any furniture but she’d clearly spent a fortune on kitchen appliances. “Did you find the building okay?”

“It was hard to miss,” Korra told her, leaning against the black marble countertop, before thinking perhaps she shouldn’t touch anything at all. She moved away and tried not to stare as Asami Satomoved around the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of an eyesore.” The actress placed a mug in front of Korra. “Black?”

Korra frowned briefly. “How did you know?”

Asami Sato smiled and walked to the refrigerator. She took out a bottle of milk and said, “It was in your bio. From the program at the gallery. It said your biggest addictions were...” She scrunched up her face in thought and counted off in one hand, “Salvador Dali paintings... watching really bad movies with your best friend...seaweed noodles... and black coffee.”

Korra vaguely recalled writing that. “Oh.” She looked down at the steam rising from the mug. “I didn’t think anyone actually read those.”

The actress poured milk into her own mug. “Well, before inviting you over, I wanted to check that your hobbies didn’t include murdering celebrities.”

“Oh they edited that part out.” Korra offered half a smile and picked up her coffee. It was hot but delicious, and she wondered what brand it was.

The actress grinned and then proceeded to put about six spoonfuls of sugar into her mug. Korra must have looked horrified because Asami Satostopped what she was doing. “What’s wrong?”

Korra looked down and away. “Nothing.”

“No, really. What’s the matter?”

Korra looked back up and sighed. “You’re just massacring that poor coffee.”

Green eyes regarded her curiously, then dropped down to look between the spoon of sugar in her hand and the mug. She looked up again. “I am?”

“Completely. You probably shouldn’t even call it coffee now.”

“What should I call it?”

The actress looked amused, and Korra was relieved that she hadn’t offended her. “I don’t know... ‘noffee’.” She rolled her eyes at her inability to come up with anything better. “You should try it pure... sometime... I mean, if you want.” She felt like an idiot. She was sure the next words out of the actress’ mouth would be, “Who are you to tell Asami Sato how to take her coffee?”

But Asami simply shrugged, and said, “Okay.” And she poured the contents of her mug into the sink. She rinsed the mug and filled it back up again. “Better?”

Korra was too surprised to comment. She watched as the actress attempted a sip only to make a face that Korra had never seen before.

“That’s disgusting,” she said, and Korra found herself laughing.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Korra admitted, and drank her own contentedly.

Asami Sato picked up the milk again. “I think I’ll just enjoy my ‘noffee’ instead.”

Korra only smiled to herself. She was starting to feel glad that she hadn’t run away, or rather, that the actress had caught her before she did. She would have hated to miss out on the face Asami Sato had made.

And also the coffee was divine.

***

Asami tried not to focus on the fact that Korra was in her apartment, and tried instead to concentrate on being herself. At least, the closest approximation to herself she could be considering how nervous she was. She had spent her entire morning staring anxiously at the time, willing it to go faster or maybe stop altogether; she went back and forth depending on her level of panic.

And now that they were standing only a few feet apart, Asami felt an undercurrent of excitement, which somehow surpassed her ever-present fears. Korra was standing in her apartment, looking as beautiful as Asami remembered; yet she was acutely aware of the artists’ nervousness which radiated through every word and every movement and served to make Asami wonder if they could ever be anything beyond strangers standing awkwardly in a room.

Asami noticed that Korra was still wearing her jacket, and she kicked herself for not having noticed sooner. “I’m sorry. I’m a terrible hostess. Are you too warm?”

Korra glanced down at herself; at the black Converse, the flared jeans, or just at the jacket itself, Asami wasn’t sure. “Um,” said the artist, “a bit.”

Asami would’ve given anything to make Korra feel at home. But how could she? There wasn’t even any furniture. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I turned up the heat like crazy because I’m not used to the cold.” She glanced around. “I can show you where to put your stuff, if you want.” She headed for the stairs. At least her bedroom had some semblance of personality.

Korra followed several steps behind and at the top step she paused and looked around. “This is your room?”

Asami took in the semi-open space, trying to see it as Korra did. “Yeah it wasn’t supposed to be, exactly. I think it was meant to be like a... den... or an office. It’s a lot smaller than the master bedroom, but I like that it’s open. I like just walking up the stairs and being in my room. And it’s cool just looking down at everything. Plus,” and here she pointed upwards, “I really love that.”

Korra glanced up and noticed the skylight. Her face broke into a smile at the sight of it. “That’s so cool. I love this,” she said, motioning to the room in general. “I’d love a bedroom like this. Mine is so... dark.”

Asami didn’t know what to say to that, because her only instinct was to offer her every possession to Korra on a silver platter. “You can just drop everything on the bed.”

The artist placed the bag on the floor and removed her jacket. Underneath, she wore a black hoodie with a faded pattern across the chest. She tossed the jacket on the bed and regarded Asami with a somewhat expectant expression.

Asami hadn’t planned on bringing Korra to her room, and having her there felt strangely intimate. She had to remind herself that Asami Sato and Korra weren’t friends.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“So,” she said, turning to look down at the apartment below. “What do you think?”

Korra walked over and stood beside her. She looked pensive as she surveyed the view. “I’m not really even sure what you want.”

At that moment Asami wanted many things that could never be. Being that close to Korra was distracting and she moved away. “I was thinking a mural.”

“A mural?”

Asami nodded. “Yeah, on that big wall when you first walk in.”

“And what do you want me to paint on this wall?”

“Anything you like.” Asami shrugged. “You can do graffiti art for all I care.” She looked around. “It’s just all so boring, you know? I’d love to walk in and see something original.”

Korra was looking at her strangely. “You seriously want me to paint your wall?”

“Is that weird?”

“Well, what if you don’t like it?”

Asami figured there was little chance of that. She’d seen a few of Korra’s paintings. In fact, she owned four of them, and there was nothing about them she didn’t love. “I think what you do with a paintbrush is magical,” she said, knowing that if anything else between them could be construed as a lie, that this, above all else, was the absolute truth. “I doubt there’s anything you could do that I wouldn’t love.” 

Korra looked momentarily speechless and Asami decided to save her from having to say something. “I opted not to buy any furniture until you knew what you wanted to paint. I didn’t want to limit or influence your creativity in any way.”

Korra sighed. “I think you think I’m something that I’m not. You’d be better off just hiring a professional.”

“And what are you?”

“I’m just an art student.”

“Oh.” Asami wondered what Korra was really afraid of.

“I don’t want to waste your time, Ms. Sato. I don’t even know if I can come up with anything to paint.”

Asami looked at the artist thoughtfully. She wondered how it was possible for someone so talented to be so unsure of herself. Asami might have accepted any number of excuses from Korra, but self-doubt was certainly not one of them. “Well, I guess I have a problem then.”

“You do?”

Asami nodded. “I mean, there are other artists who do beautiful work, don’t get me wrong, but out of all of them, you’re the only one I want.” That hadn’t been quite what she’d intended to say, and if she were the type to blush, she would have. But it was the truth, at least, in more ways than one, and she liked being able to tell the truth.

Korra only stared at her.

“You can take as long as you want to come up with whatever it is you end up painting. I’m in no hurry. My guests can just sit on the floor.”

There was a flicker of a smile on Korra’s lips. And then, “Let me see this wall.”

***

Korra agreed to it, in the end. She agreed to a mural and whatever else Asami Sato wanted her to do because she had run out of excuses, and turning this opportunity down would be monumentally stupid. But there were other reasons, too. She’d been surprised by the actress’ words, and her praise, which had seemed to Korra at once genuine and pleading, flattered her. For whatever reason, Asami Sato wanted her to paint for her, and Korra could think of no higher compliment than that.

“I guess I can come up with some rough sketches and you tell me what you like best,” Korra suggested.

The sound of the lock at the door echoed softly through the large apartment, interrupting whatever the actress might’ve said next, and Korra turned to see a young woman enter the apartment. She looked vaguely familiar, and Korra thought she might have seen her at the gallery. Her hair was brown and was clipped back away from her face. She was young, in her mid-twenties, Korra guessed, and was dressed in jeans and a black pea coat. She carried in her hand a plastic bag and had a cell phone to her ear. “...well, you’re not supposed to reheat a cheeseburger for ten minutes in the microwave! What did you think was going to happen? Anyway, I just got to Asami’s. I’ll call you later. Please don’t burn anything down.” She noticed Korra and Asami watching her and looked surprised. The phone snapped shut. “Sorry, I’m just dropping this off,” she said, lifting up the bag in her hand.

“Korra, this is my assistant, Opal. Opal, this is Korra.”

Opal walked over and shook Korra’ hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said kindly. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” To Asami, she said, “Where do you want these?”

Korra idly wondered what was in the bag, out of curiosity and nothing more.

The actress waved in the general direction of nowhere in particular and said, “Anywhere is fine. Thanks, Opal.”

“I live to serve,” she said, as her cell phone rang again. She made an apologetic face and answered, while moving off in the direction of the kitchen. “...she’s busy at the moment, but I can have her get back to you...”

Korra regarded the actress. “I should get going,” she said, because she suddenly felt like she’d been there too long and maybe Asami Sato had other matters to attend to. “I’ve got some errands to run.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to make up an excuse.

“Sure, let me get your stuff,” the actress replied, and headed up the stairs.

The assistant was off the phone by the time she walked back over. She smiled at Korra. “It was really nice to meet you. I really loved your work when I saw it at the gallery.”

Korra returned the smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Opal waved and headed for the door. “I’m off to make sure Bolin didn’t burn down the apartment!” she said loud enough for Asami would hear. “See you later!”

The actress was walking down the stairs, Korra’s jacket and bag in hand. “Have fun,” she said to Opal.

And then they were alone again.

Korra accepted her belongings. “Thanks. Oh, and um, how should I... uh, contact you?”

“Oh! Right. Hang on.” Asami Sator ushed back up the stairs, taking them two at a time, which Korra found amusing. She returned moments later with a pen and a small notebook. “Let me give you Opal’s number. You can get in touch with her any time.” She started to write, then glanced up, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’m a little hard to reach sometimes, so it’s just easier if you go through her.”

Korra didn’t know why Asami Sato felt the need to apologize to her. But she shrugged anyway and proclaimed it okay. She took the piece of paper when it was offered to her.

At the door, Asami Sato said, “Thanks for doing this,” she said, her tone soft and somewhat vulnerable.

The thought of Sami popped into Korra’s mind and it suddenly hit her just how similar their voices were. She almost laughed at the thought. “I just hope you don’t end up regretting it...”

The actress shook her head at her, and then said, “Oh, I almost forgot.” She took an envelope out of her back pocket and pointed it at Korra. “I know we never discussed a fee, but I thought this might be enough to get you started.”

Korra tentatively accepted the envelope and peeked inside. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but certainly not this. “Ten thousand dollars?” She offered the envelope back. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sato. That’s entirely too much money. All I did was stare at a wall.”

“Please call me Asami. And that seems to be the going rate for staring at walls these days. I Googled it.”

Korra tried to think of something to reply back to that but her mind went blank. She lowered her arm.

“Take it,” Asami insisted.

Korra wondered what ten thousand dollars actually meant to someone like Asami Sato. It was probably what she spent a week on shoes. But to Korra, it was a ridiculous amount of money. “I think you’re insane,” she said, before she could stop herself.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The actress smiled, and Korra found herself thinking how unfair it was for someone to be that beautiful. She smiled back. “I guess I’ll be in touch.”

“I look forward to it.”

Korra walked away then. As she waited for the elevator, she glanced back, but Asami Sato had disappeared inside her apartment. She glanced down at the envelope in her hand. She’d never held a check with so many zeros attached to it before.

She didn’t think about the money, though, on her ride back down to earth. She thought mostly of Asami Sato’s words, and how nice it felt to have someone else believe in her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh fine, I’ll just do a double day today and for chapters 39 and 40. I’d be impatient if I were you too haha


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra crumpled another ripped page and tossed it on the kitchen table. It rolled and bounced off the many others that had suffered the same fate. The ideas weren’t flowing. She was too self-conscious, too worried about what the actress might think. She needed to let her mind go and not overanalyze every stroke of the pencil.

Keys jingled outside in the hall and a second later, the front door opened. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” Kuvira called.

“In the kitchen.”

Kuvira appeared carrying a series of shopping bags. She glanced briefly at the mess of paper balls on the table before smiling brightly in Korra’s direction. “I just blew the $300 I made doing that short film, but it was so worth it. I got the hottest pair of jeans ever.”

Kuvira dug into one of the bags and withdrew a pair of jeans that looked very much like every other pair of jeans Korra had ever seen. “Um, hot,” Korra said, because there was no use in saying anything other than that.

“I also got...” Kuvira reached into a different bag and withdrew a blue and black striped scarf. “...this. For you. Aaaaand socks to match!”

“Aw, shucks.” Korra held up her gifts and shook her head. “Wasn’t Christmas like a month ago?” Kuvira shrugged. “Yeah, but we were both broke. Now we’re rich. Well, you’re rich.”

Korra hesitated. “I’m not depositing that check from Asami Sato until I know I can actually come up with something.” She motioned to the piles of paper. “As you can see, it’s not going well.”

Kuvira sat down and kicked her shoes into the living room. One hit the back of the couch, and the other missed their lamp by an inch. “Okay. I’ve got something that might help you with that.”

Korra slouched down in the chair and stared curiously at her best friend. She crossed her arms. “What could that possibly be?”

Kuvira reached into another bag and withdrew an item from its depths. “I actually bought it for one of my actor friends, but I can see that you’re in a crisis. So here.” She handed something to Korra.

Korra took it and sighed. “A movie set with the top ten romcoms of all time? How is this going to help me? You want me to paint a giant DVD’s on the wall of Asami Sato’s penthouse?”

Kuvira smiled. “Hey, she might like that. Who knows. She has been in a bunch of movies after all.”

“Okay,” Korra said, interrupting. She slid the movie set across the table. “It’s all yours. Really. I’m good.”

“Oh c’mon Korra, you need some romance in your life!” Kuvira took the movie set and threw it back into the bag. “Call Adam at least. Go out. Make out. Do something.”

Korra shrugged and offered a tentative smile. “He did look kind of cute with his new hair cut.”

“There you go! Excellent. Glad that’s settled.” She stood up, grabbing bags as she went. “I gotta get ready for work. We hired this new guy. His name is Roberto. I get to train him tonight.” She looked pensively into the living room. “I can’t decide if I’m attracted to him or if I find him repulsive. Such a fine line.” She shrugged, and headed to her room.

Korra grabbed her sketchpad. The blank page mocked her. She bit her lip thoughtfully and grabbed her cell. She’d taken to text messaging Sami these days because she found it was the best way to get a speedy answer. It was almost as good as a phone conversation, but not as intrusive.

She found Sami’s name in her list of contacts and typed:

If u had to paint a mural on a famous person’s wall, what would u paint?

She sent the message, and waited.

The answer came faster than she’d expected.

A stick figure holding a banana, it said.

Korra laughed and typed back, why a banana?

A moment later, the phone chimed with, Because it’s my 2nd favorite fruit.

Korra spent four minutes trying to remember what Sami’ number one fruit was and was almost about to check her email archives, when she remembered. She typed, Then why not an apple?

And then the answer, Because I would’ve eaten it.

Korra was grinning by the time she decided to clear the mess on the table and return to her room. She’d go for a walk, she decided. Maybe the cold would help clear her head. Maybe the city would reveal to her what Asami Sato might possibly want painted onto her very expensive wall.

She grabbed her coat, and her new scarf, and made sure her copy of The Color Purple was in her bag before setting out.

***

Asami was sitting in bed reading Harry Potter when the phone rang. A part of her was hoping that Korra would decide to call. She’d almost called her herself after the stream of text messages had ended, but decided against it.

Her heart sped up as she reached for the phone, expecting to see the name ‘Korra’ on the display screen. She was disappointed but also relieved to see the name ‘Taylor Rose’ instead. She sat up and removed her glasses, sliding them in between the pages of the book. “How’s my favorite director today?” she asked.

“Excellent, actually,” Taylor said, and Asami could tell she was smiling. “I have good news.”

“I’m all for good news.”

“We’ve got all the main parts cast and should be ready to roll at the end of the month.”

“Good to hear,” Asami said, and it was, mostly. “Did you find someone to play Lynn?”

“We decided to go with Sophia Carmichael. I had her read for me again last week, and she nailed it. I think she’ll make a great Lynn.”

And it didn’t hurt that her new show was a hit, Asami thought, but kept silent. It was for the best that Kuvira hadn’t been cast. It was for the best, and yet... “What about Kuvira?”

“Who? Oh! I actually heard really good things about her in that short film she did for Sierra’s director friend. But everyone agreed that Sophia was a better fit.”

“What about one of the smaller roles? Have they all been cast?” Asami needed to let it go. She knew she did. But a different part of her wanted to do all she could to help Kuvira out. Chances like this didn’t come often.

The director was silent for a second, and Asami could hear the sound of a television in the background and the shuffling of paper nearby. “Sorry, I was just looking at my notes. Um, we have a tentative yes for the role of Shannon, but it’s on shaky ground because the actress has this thing coming up and blah blah blah. Honestly, I’m sick of talking to her, she’s such a pain in the ass. Kuvira hadn’t occurred to me for that part but... well, what do you think?”

Asami couldn’t even remember who Shannon was in the script. She searched her brain but came up blank. “Sorry, who’s Shannon again?”

“She’s the one Elizabeth seduces at the bar.”

Asami felt the blood rush to her face. Oh God. “I thought her name was Jane?”

“Yeah, there were some issues with the name so we had to change it. Remind me to get you the new script. So, Kuvira, then? I can see that. I’ll see if she’s up for it and have her come in. It’d be a joy to replace that other girl, actually. I hate working with divas. Good call.”

What the hell did I just do? Asami thought, suddenly panicked as the scene in question played in her mind.

“So how are you enjoying life in New York?” Taylor continued.

Asami looked around her room and stared up at the sunlight streaming from above. She stifled the urge to sigh. “I love it,” she said, pushing thoughts of the movie aside. “How about you?”

“It’s so good to be back. My new place is great. Which reminds me, the main reason I was calling is that I’m throwing a cast and crew party in a couple of weeks. Thought it’d be a nice way to relax and get to know each other before we jump into the fray.”

“Sounds fun,” Asami said, and actually meant it despite the fact that she usually hated parties.

“Great. I already cleared the date with Opal earlier so I’ll send you an Evite with the details.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Taylor echoed. There was a pause, and then, “Is this awkward for you? Talking to me? I mean, after our last conversation in L.A.?”

Asami frowned at her comforter. “Ah... no. Why? Is it awkward for you?”

“No, not really. I just thought it might be. I’m glad it’s not.” She paused again. “Maybe now that I brought it up it is a little.” She laughed. “Okay, I’m off then. Talk to you later.”

Asami shook her head, amused. “Take care, Taylor.”

She tossed the phone aside and grabbed the script off her nightstand. She flipped the pages until she came to the scene in which her character seduced another. She read it over quickly and closed her eyes. What had she done? There was no way she could do a love scene with Kuvira.

She opened her eyes and let out a long sigh. Maybe she’d get lucky and Kuvira would refuse to play gay.

***

Korra had travelled all the way to the Upper East Side after a craving for frozen hot chocolate gripped her and wouldn’t let go. The thought of calling Adam and inviting him to join her crossed her mind while waiting in line to get seated, but she couldn’t imagine asking him to come all the way uptown just so she wouldn’t have to sit alone. She’d settled instead for Alice Walker’s company and the comforting sound of strangers’ chatter.

After a very healthy dinner of fries and the infamous chocolate drink, she squeezed through the crowds of people still waiting in line and wandered back out into the street. The night was cold and her breath plumed out in front of her like the fading traces of a ghost. She shivered, now thinking that a frozen drink had been a terrible idea in winter. She tightened her scarf around her neck.

Korra was aware, as she began to walk, of her proximity to Asami Sato’s apartment, and she wondered if that had been the reason she’d decided to head north instead of simply stopping by Kuvira’s coffee place or sitting at the park. She hadn’t planned on stopping by the actress’ apartment, but her feet led her there of their own accord, and despite the fact that she felt nervous and out of place in Asami Sato’s world, she did want to do a good job. She wanted to prove that she could do this.

The building appeared before long and she stared up at it before crossing the street.

This was stupid, Korra thought, as she approached the building and the doorman who’d undoubtedly give her a hard time. Asami Sato was likely not even home, or perhaps had guests and didn’t wish to be interrupted. It was rude to show up unannounced in the middle of the evening with no good reason for being there except that she was stuck in her inspiration and thought being in the apartment might help.

She hesitated and then a voice she didn’t quite recognize was calling her name. Korra turned to find Asami Sato’s assistant walking her way.

“Are you here to see Asami?” the pretty brunette, whose name she remembered as Opal, asked, looking both pleased and surprised to find Korra standing there.

“I.. uh.” Korra wasn’t sure what to say. That she was just passing by would be a lie but the truth made her feel self-conscious. “She’s not expecting me,” was what she went with.

“Oh! Don’t worry, she’ll be happy to see you,” Opal said, and suddenly began digging into the bag she carried. A second later she withdrew an unmarked envelope and what looked to be a screenplay. “Could you give this to her for me? I’m running really late to meet with my boyfriend and you’d really save me some time.”

Korra took the items and nodded.

“Great,” said Opal and then approached the doorman and exchanged a few words with him which Korra couldn’t quite hear.

When Korra walked over the doorman smiled at her and opened the door.

“Thanks a ton,” said Opal and then she was off.

Korra smiled nervously back at the man and continued onwards through the lobby. The elevator ride was uneventful and with each passing floor she grew progressively more nervous. This had definitely been a stupid idea, and now she was stuck. She couldn’t very well run off with Asami Sato’s stuff.

The doors dinged open and Korra made her way toward Asami Sato’s door. There was little reason to hesitate with a camera pointed down at her, and so she knocked, softly, thinking maybe she’d get lucky and no one would answer. Perhaps she could leave the items with the doorman if the actress wasn’t there.

But she heard footsteps and then the sound of the lock and then Asami Sato was standing in front of her once again. Korra was surprised to see that the actress was wearing glasses. She was dressed in jeans again, though these were perfectly fitted, and the red zip-up hoodie sweatshirt she sported was open just enough to reveal a white tank top beneath. She had a book in her hand, her index finger marking the page, and Korra instantly recognized the cover as Harry Potter.

“Korra,” Asami said, looking somewhat startled.

“I’m sorry to show up like this,” Korra said. “If you’re busy, I can come back some other time...”

The actress removed her glasses and shook her head, her silky dark hair falling across her face. “No, I’m not busy at all. I was just cooking dinner and um...” She seemed to remember the book in her hand and she looked embarrassed. “Please come in?”

Korra walked in, amazed by how little things had changed, but impressed by the apartment all over again. She was suddenly aware of a delicious smell coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen and it occurred to her that maybe fries and frozen hot chocolate hadn’t been much of a meal. Music was playing, too, but she didn’t recognize the song. She turned to the actress. “I ran into your assistant downstairs and she asked me to give you these.”

Asami accepted the items, looking somewhat perplexed. “I’m sorry, Opal gave these to you?”

“Yeah, she said she was running late.”

Asami looked confused. “She did, did she?” But then she smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “Please, take your coat off. I know it’s an oven in here. You can leave your stuff on my bed.” The actress headed up the stairs and Korra followed, removing her coat as she went.

Korra was in love with Asami Sato’s bedroom. It was big, but not obnoxiously so. She loved that you could stand to the side and look down at the rest of the apartment. She also loved the flat-screen TV and the ridiculous stereo system, from which another song was playing that Korra didn’t know. And then there was the skylight. She glanced up and noticed that it had begun to rain.

Korra dropped her coat and her messenger bag on the bed.

“Sorry, I just need to check on dinner,” Asami said, her tone apologetic. “I’m trying this new recipe,” she continued, as she started down the stairs. “And I have no idea how it’s going to turn out.”

Korra couldn’t imagine Asami Sato cooking, and she followed the actress back down to the kitchen where an assortment of food items awaited. “What are you making?” Korra ventured to ask, because curiosity was a temptress she couldn’t ignore for long. She noticed that there were now white cushioned stools beneath the counter, but she didn’t sit.

Asami was looking into the oven, where something was baking, and Korra figured that’s where the delicious smell was coming from. “Let’s see,” said the actress. “I was feeling a bit Greek today so I ended up making some hummus. Ooh, want to try? I need a second opinion.”

A plate appeared out of nowhere and suddenly there was a dollop of hummus and triangles of pita bread in front of her. Korra arched an eyebrow. “You made your own hummus?”

“Yup. Tell me what you think. You can be brutal. I can take it.”

Korra thought perhaps she was having a dream because it didn’t seem real that Asami Sato was offering her homemade hummus and hadn’t even bothered to ask what the hell Korra was doing in her apartment. Korra dropped her gaze and looked at the food. She spread the hummus over the pita bread and took a bite. After a moment, she blinked in surprise. “That’s really good,” she said, somewhat shocked by how true it was. She decided to sit down after all. “You really made this?”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I usually just buy it at the store, but this is even better.”

Asami looked pleased. “Um, and then I made a vegetarian Greek Lasagna, which might turn out to be a disaster because I decided to add feta cheese even though the recipe didn’t call for it. But lasagna without cheese didn’t sit right with me. And then there’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream for dessert, which I didn’t make myself. Such things are better left to the likes of Ben & Jerry. It doesn’t quite go with the whole Greek theme but I think that’s okay. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Korra looked up, startled by the question. “Me? You haven’t even asked why I’m here.”

“Is it because you haven’t come up with anything to paint and are freaking out?”

Korra stared at the actress for a moment. “Yes...”

Asami smiled softly. “Then I guess I don’t have to ask.” The oven beeped behind her. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got a 2002 Cabernet Franc to go with this but I’m wondering if it’ll be as good with a vegetarian dish.” Green eyes looked in her direction. “Want to find out?”

Korra had no idea what Asami Sato was talking about, but she guessed it had something to do with wine. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had wine with dinner. She also couldn’t remember agreeing to eat with the actress, but she found herself saying, “Sure,” as though she had. After all, this could still prove to be a dream, and any moment now a parade of chickens in pink tutus could march across the living room playing the Star-Spangled Banner. But nothing of the sort happened and Korra was forced to consider that this might be for real. “Are you a vegetarian?”

“Not as a rule, no.” Asami glanced at her and then looked down as she poured wine into glasses. Her eyes were momentarily hidden beneath incredibly long eyelashes and Korra thought of all of the airbrushed magazine covers she’d seen the actress in. She wondered how it was possible for someone to look even more beautiful in person. “I picked up a vegetarian cookbook recently,” the actress continued, looking up again. “I wanted to try a few of the recipes.”

“Oh,” Korra said, still thinking it odd that Asami Sato cooked. “I think the only dish I’ve ever mastered is an omelette and even that turned out to be disgusting.” She thought of Sami and their emails on the subject, then pushed the thought away as she accepted the glass of wine.

“I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad,” Asami said with a slight grin. “You should taste my best friend’s cooking. Trust me, you will never feel bad about anything you make after you’ve sampled one of Bolin’s creations.”

Bolin, Korra thought, the name ringing a bell. Bolin? Her ex. How interesting that they’d remained friends after he’d dumped the actress for her assistant. Best friends, at that. She vaguely recalled Kuvira commenting on the subject but it hadn’t quite hit home until that moment.

Korra didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Instead, she watched as the actress served the food in white square plates, complete with a basil garnish. She’d never seen anyone put food on a plate with such care before. “I feel like I’m watching the Food Network,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Let’s just hope it tastes good,” Asami said, and put a plate in front of Korra and another next to her. Silverware came next, and before long, the actress had come around to sit beside Korra. “If it’s gross we can just order pizza. Or Chinese.” She glanced at Korra. “What do you prefer?”

“Um, both, I think,” Korra said. “Well, not at the same time.”

The food smelled wonderful and she took the actress’ cue and picked up a fork and cut a piece. She was careful to blow on it before sticking it in her mouth, remembering the many times she’d accidentally burned her tongue whilst in the company of strangers. She was relieved when the food didn’t prove to be too hot to eat. “Wow,” she said, a moment later. “That tastes even better than it smells.”

Asami was looking thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s not as bad as I imagined.” The actress took a sip of wine and regarded Korra. “So, what can I do to help you find some artistic inspiration?”

Tell me what to paint, Korra thought dryly but didn’t say it. “I have no idea. I just thought maybe being here would give me some ideas.”

“And?”

“It just made me hungry.” Korra smiled.

Asami laughed at that. She shrugged. “You could always just throw a bucket of paint at the wall and smear it around with your hand. Could look kinda cool.”

“You could do that yourself, why pay me to do it?”

“Because,” Asami said, meeting Korra’s gaze, “I firmly believe that you’re going to be a famous artist one day, and I would love to have a Korra original on my wall.”

Korra shook her head and continued eating, thinking the actress was delusional. “Or I could turn out to be a nobody and die penniless and alone under a bridge somewhere.”

“Why alone?”

Korra didn’t know how to answer that because she didn’t know why she’d said it. “Just being melodramatic, I guess.”

Asami was silent and for a minute or two the only thing audible was the clinking of silverware and the sound of Billy Joel’s Piano Man playing from the speakers. Finally a song Korra recognized. “Maybe it’s my fault,” the actress said suddenly. “Maybe I’m stifling your inspiration by asking for something.”

Korra wondered if that was it, but ended up shaking her head. “I think there’s just days or weeks or months when I wake up and the only thing I can do is think about painting or drawing and other times when the thought of it... depresses me. Because I just... I don’t know, I feel... numb.” She looked away, feeling embarrassed.

“Well, would it help if I told you what to paint exactly?”

“Yes,” Korra said, feeling somewhat relieved. “I think it would.”

The actress nodded and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, be right back then.” She slid off the stool and disappeared up the stairs.

Korra frowned, wondering what the actress was doing. She took the opportunity to finish her meal, not wishing to appear like a starved pig. Korra was on her last bite when Asami reappeared. She carried a book, a pen, and a small spiral notebook in her hands, and she pushed her dish to the side to make room.

Asami held the book and said, “Okay, pick a number from one to,” and here she flipped to the end before finishing with, “five hundred and two.”

Korra felt her eyebrow lift in question. “Um, fifty-eight.”

Asami wrote down this number, and then said, “Okay and then pick a number from one to twenty.”

“Seven.”

Asami wrote this down too, and then said, “Okay, let’s see.” She flipped to a page in the book and began counting. On the notebook she occasionally wrote something down. After about a minute of this, she looked up and glanced at the notebook. “Okay so we’ve got monkey, nose, river, tower, which I guess means you’ll have to paint a... monkey’s nose on a tower in a river?”

Korra bit her lip. “A monkey’s nose on a tower in a river? This is what you want on your wall?”

“Apparently,” Asami said. “I figured I’d leave it up to fate. I mean, I suppose it could also be a nose in a river with a monkey in a tower. You can choose.”

Korra was unable to keep from smiling. “Okay,” she said, pushing her own dish aside. She slid the notebook closer, and took the pen from Asami’s hand. She began to draw. She drew a nose, using the curve of it to also form the tail of the monkey wrapped around the base of the tower. She finished with the river, upon which the tower sat.

“That’s amazing,” Asami said, standing to look at the drawing, and Korra was suddenly incredibly aware of how close they were standing. Their arms brushed as Asami pulled the notebook closer to her, and Korra felt her skin tingle with the contact. “It’s kind of surrealist.”

Korra sat back down in order to put some space between them. “Hardly,” she said, but blushed anyway, because the drawing had been meant as a joke, and had somehow turned out better than she’d expected. And for some reason her arm was still tingling.

Asami glanced at her. “I don’t know, maybe if underneath you write: ‘This is not a tower with a monkey wrapped around it.’”

Korra smiled. “Magritte would be so proud,” she said, surprised by the reference. “So, you’re familiar with his work?”

“I think The Son of Man is one of my favorite paintings,” Asami said. “Maybe because I love apples.” The actress looked momentarily flustered, and then said, “Um, can I interest you in dessert?”

Apples seemed to be a popular fruit, Korra thought. Then said, “Thanks, but I should really head home. It’s getting late.”

Asami nodded easily. “Okay, I’ll get your things, then.”

“Wait, um, can I help you clean up?” Korra felt incredibly rude waltzing in unannounced, eating the actress’ food, and then running out the door.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asami said, already on her way up the stairs. “Can I call you a cab?”

“I’ll just take the subway,” Korra said, momentarily alarmed by how much a taxi ride might cost. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” she asked, as the actress reappeared, holding her things.

“I’m sure,” Asami said, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. She seemed shy suddenly. “Thanks for trying my experimental food.”

If that was her experimental food, Korra wondered what her specialties were. “Thanks for inviting me for dinner. It was nice of you considering how rude of me it was to just show up like this.”

“You’re welcome any time,” Asami said, and Korra didn’t know why, but it sounded very much like the actress meant it.

Korra bit her lip and reached into her messenger bag. A moment later, she took out the check Asami had given her. “Please take this back. At least until I feel like I deserve something from you. I’m not going to deposit it anyway, and having it around makes me nervous.”

The actress hesitated but took the check. “Okay,” she said.

Korra felt better instantly. She smiled. “Okay. Good.” She reached for the door. “Until later then.”

“Until later,” the actress said.

Korra walked out onto the hallway, and as she walked toward the elevator it occurred to her that something had changed. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly. But something had changed between her and Asami Sato.

It felt like a good thing.

***

Asami closed the door and leaned her forehead against it, her hair tickling her cheeks as it fell forward. She let out a long breath and moved away from the door. On her way to the kitchen, she found that she was smiling. Korra had stopped by. Korra had stayed for dinner.

And through it all Asami had managed not to make a complete fool of herself.

She took in the state of the kitchen and decided to ignore it for the time being. She sat back down on the stool and looked at the drawing Korra had made. Asami had loved every second she’d spent in the artist’s company, but her favorite moment had been the one spent watching Korra draw.

Her gaze traced over the picture on the notebook and she smiled sadly. From the pocket of her sweatshirt she withdrew her cell phone and dialed.

Her assistant answered on the first ring. “Please don’t kill me.”

Asami reached for the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. “Start talking.”

“Well,” began Opal, in a tone that begged to be found innocent of any and all charges, “I got to your building and I saw Korra standing there looking like she was about to change her mind about coming to see you. So, I uh... improvised. I figured you’d rather see her than Bolin and I, anyway.”

Asami sighed. “So you trapped her into coming up?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘trapped’... that sounds so... so...”

“So very much like what you did?”

“Oh, come on. Like if I’d shown up and said, ‘hey I saw Korra downstairs, and she looked like she wanted to come see you but then she changed her mind and I did nothing to stop her’ you wouldn’t have killed me on the spot?”

“I guess.”

“So, how’d it go?”

Asami let herself smile, because she couldn’t help it. “She stayed for dinner. Speaking of which, what did you and Bolin end up doing for food?”

“Um, this is New York, Asami. There’s a restaurant every half a step. We managed just fine without your weird ass veggie food. Anyway, back to you and Korra.”

“There is no ‘me and Korra’.”

Opal sighed audibly. “I really wish I could save you from heartbreak, but I guess falling for a straight girl is a lesbian rite of passage or something.”

Asami felt depressed suddenly. She pushed the notebook with Korra’s drawing away and stood up. “I gotta go. My kitchen’s a mess. Talk to you tomorrow.” She hung up before Opal could protest, and dropped her phone on the counter.

Her good mood had vanished, replaced instead by a feeling akin to panic. What was she doing? Korra was straight. She was straight and that wasn’t going to change just because she happened to like Asami’s cooking. She was straight and Asami was lying to her and once she knew the truth none of this would matter anymore.

An upbeat song began to play from her very randomized selection of music and Asami decided to pull herself together. She’d focus on cleaning the mess in the kitchen because she had no idea what to do about the mess in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sense ✨romance✨


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra blinked. The shapes in her room were blurry and undecipherable as she attempted to make sense of her surroundings. The sound of the phone echoed through the apartment, and she pulled the covers over her head. She refused to get up this time. She’d stayed up entirely too late finishing The Color Purple, and then later still to write an email to Sami detailing just how much she’d loved it.

The phone rang again, a half-ring, interrupted by the merciful voice of Kuvira saying, “Korra and Kuvira’s house of kinkiness. How may I spank you?”

Korra relaxed when the call turned out to be for Kuvira. She must have drifted back to sleep again because the next thing she knew, Kuvira was on top of her, bouncing on her bed.

“Wake up, oh my God,” Kuvira was saying, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Guess who just called me.”

Korra opened one eye, shut it, and opened the other. Kuvira was on top of her, gazing down at her excitedly, and Korra had never wanted to hurt someone so badly in her life. She closed her eyes again only to be shaken. She groaned. “Ihateyouleavemealone,” she mumbled.

“Korra! That was the casting director for that film I auditioned for. They want me to come back in and read for some other part!”

The news filtered through Korra’s foggy conscience. “Wow,” she managed, her voice hoarse and full of sleep. “I promise to be really excited for you in like six hours.”

The bouncing resumed and Korra tried to recall if she’d left anything nearby that might be used as weapon. The bouncing stopped. “Jesus, this room is colder than mine,” Kuvira said, and a moment later she’d lifted the covers and slipped in, shuddering. “Hang on, I want to be spooning you when I tell you the rest of the phone conversation.” Kuvira felt like an icicle and it was all Korra to do not to punch her. “Ooh, you’re warm.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Korra whined, as Kuvira wrapped herself around her. She winced as cold feet brushed against her leg.

“Okay,” Kuvira said, once she was settled. “So the woman, Sierra Murphy or something like that, was like, ‘Would you be opposed to doing nude scenes?’ And I was like, “Uh, depends on what kind,” and she was like, ‘Well would you have a problem shooting a sex scene?’ And I said, ‘Like... porn?’ and she laughed and was like, ‘No no. Tastefully done, of course. But you might have to strip down a little.’ And I was like, ‘Well, sure, that’s fine.’” She paused. “Are you listening to me?”

“Your mouth is next to my ear, how could I possibly not be?”

“Okay. So, then she was like, ‘Oh good, good. We’d like you to come in and read for a different part.’ And I was like, ‘Great!’ And then... are you ready?”

Korra sighed into her pillow. “Yes...”

“Then she was like, ‘Would you be opposed to doing a sex scene with a woman?’”

Korra’s eyes flew open. “Really?”

Kuvira giggled. “Am I freaking you out being all over you like this?”

“No, it’s turning me on, actually,” Korra said and grinned.

“Ooh, baby.” Kuvira laughed and disentangled herself from Korra. “Actually, I’m freaking myself out. You feel kinda good.” She paused to straighten out the other pillow. “So what do you think? I might get to have sex with a chick on camera.”

Korra turned to look at her friend. “So you said you were okay with it?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I played a kick-ass lesbian in that play a few years ago.” She sat up so her back was against the wall. “I hope it’s someone hot.”

Korra rubbed her eyes and sat up too. There was no use in pretending she might actually get some sleep. She yawned. “So, when’s the big audition?”

“Tonight actually,” Kuvira said, frowning. “I hope I can find someone to cover for me at work. I’m gonna get fired one of these days.” She shrugged. “Hey, do you think Asami Sato had anything to do with them calling me back? You know, since she knows we’re friends.”

“I don’t know,” Korra said, but suddenly wondered if the actress had said anything. Why would she? Asami Sato didn’t owe her any favors. “Maybe you were just really good.”

Kuvira nodded thoughtfully. “So, will you make out with me later?”

Korra stared at Kuvira as though her head had suddenly multiplied.

“Well they’re bound to make me kiss some random woman and I need it to be natural. The last time I kissed a girl was back in high school and there was a beer bottle spinning around on the floor. I figure a little refresher wouldn’t hurt. You game?”

The thought of kissing Kuvira was utterly disturbing to Korra. “I don’t think so. Seems a tad bit incestuous.”

Kuvira considered this and nodded. “Yeah, I guess it should be someone I don’t really know, anyway. Who can I get to make out with me?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh! One of the girls in that short I did I think was bi. I’ll give her a call.”

“You’re just going to call her and say, ‘Hey, will you make out with me?’”

Kuvira rolled out of bed. “Yeah. Why?”

“And she’s going to be like, ‘Yeah sure!’”

Kuvira snorted. “She better be. Fucking best day of her life.” She winked at Korra and headed out the door. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck,” Korra called after her, and laughed. She slid back under the covers and settled into the warmth. If she was lucky, she’d manage a few more hours of sleep.

***

The phone rang while Asami was still trying to figure out what to reply to Korra’s last email.

There were a lot of things she wanted to say; a lot of things she would have said had she not felt so guilty each time she started to type something. Korra’s visit was still fresh in her mind, and it was all she could think about as she stared at the words on her screen. She couldn’t go on pretending to be Sami. Not anymore.

Asami had spent part of the night imagining scenarios in which she would come to tell Korra the truth. Each one seemed lamer than the last and each ended with Korra walking angrily away. Would Korra be angry? Asami didn’t know. Asami didn’t know at all how the artist might react and it was this that kept her from picking up the phone and saying, “Korra, I need to tell you something.”

But she was saved from these thoughts the moment the phone rang, and a different sort of worry wrapped itself around her as she answered. “Hi, Taylor.”

“I am running super late to a meeting so this is a mega quickie. Hi, Asami. How are you? Good? Good. Are you busy tonight?”

She wasn’t, but she almost didn’t want to answer truthfully until she knew what the director needed her for. “Why?”

“We’re having Kuvira come in for an audition. I managed to convince Sierra to get me some rough footage of that short film she did recently. She looks great in front of a camera. I just need to see the two of you together. Please say you’re free.”

Asami had been dreading this call since the moment she’d opened her mouth and suggested Kuvira for a different role. She ran a list of excuses through her mind but it seemed inevitable that she’d be force to audition with Kuvira at some point or another. “I’m free,” she said, trying not to sigh.

Her only hope now was that Taylor would hate them together.

***

“You should’ve just kissed Taylor,” Opal said distractedly, while typing something on her phone. She’d insisted on coming along and Asami had been too preoccupied with the business of panicking to put up much of an argument. “At least your first girl kiss would’ve been for real. And I still don’t get what the big deal was with that. A kiss wouldn’t have killed the movie. Unless it led to sex.” She frowned thoughtfully, her thumbs pausing in their movement. “Wait, would you have slept with her in the back of the limo?”

Asami focused on the changing numbers above the elevator doors and let out a long breath. Only four more floors to go and she’d be back in the audition room. Maybe Kuvira wouldn’t show up. She turned her head to find Opal looking at her. “What?”

“Nothing. You look really good today, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Great,” she said dryly.

“Look, it’s just a kiss, you’ve done a million of those before. Lips are lips. Who cares who they belong to? And who knows, maybe it won’t even come to that.”

“I guess,” Asami said, letting the possibility of that soothe her somewhat. “But what if she gets the part?”

Opal shrugged. “Then it will just be a few more kisses.” She considered. “And the tearing off her clothes, and the going down on her... but other than that...”

Asami covered her face with one hand.

The elevator doors dinged open.

“We’re here,” Opal said cheerfully and practically skipped out of the elevator.

Asami followed, far less enthusiastically. The waiting room was empty, but the sound of voices spilled out from the open door. Asami took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She would do this. She would get through this and then deal with whatever came next.

Taylor was in the middle of a sentence when Asami walked in, but she paused mid-word the moment she spotted the actress. Whatever she’d been in the process of saying seemed forgotten. “Asami,” she said, brightening suddenly. “Good to see you again.”

Asami smiled at her, her gaze lingering only long enough to be considered polite, then moving on to greet the others in the room. Ella Peters was there, along with Sierra Murphy. But that was all. She’d expected more people.

“Asami,” said Ella, without warning or preamble, “have you ever kissed a woman before?”

Asami froze only briefly in the process of removing her leather coat. “I haven’t,” she said smoothly. “Are you offering to be my first?”

They all laughed, and Ella picked up the conversation once the laughter subsided, “Well, at least Taylor’s been around that block a few times.”

Asami lifted an eyebrow at the director who seemed to blush considerably all of a sudden.

Taylor cleared her throat. “Let’s save the embarrassing stuff for the party. At least we’ll all be too drunk to remember anything the next day.”

There was a round of good-natured laughter which died down at the sound of a soft knock.

Asami turned to see Kuvira standing uncertainly in the doorway. “Sorry, there was no one out there so...”

Taylor jumped instantly into director mode. “Please come in. Thanks for coming on such short notice... again.”

“Thanks for having me back.” Kuvira’s gaze fell on Asami. She looked somewhat startled to see the actress there.

Taylor took a moment to introduce everyone, and there was a round of polite but distanced nods. “So,” she said, handing Kuvira part of the script, “we’re having you read for a different type of role than last time. I’m not sure how much Sierra told you on the phone but essentially your character has one sex scene with Asami’s. If you have reservations about that, if you think you’d be uncomfortable in that type of scenario, speak now. I promise there’s no hard feelings.”

Kuvira smiled, her teeth white and perfectly even. “If there’s one thing I’m not uncomfortable with, it’s sex.”

Taylor chuckled. “Okay! Well, take a few minutes to look over the script. And we’ll see what you’ve got.”

Asami watched Kuvira on the monitor by the camera, thinking that she looked beautiful and at ease, even while just standing there reading quietly to herself. Asami suddenly felt an unsettling mixture of pride and nausea.

Taylor walked over, eclipsing her view of the screen. She handed over the script. “You ready?”

No, she wanted to say, but only offered a brief smile. She accepted the pages.

“Don’t worry,” Taylor said softly. “I’ll be gentle.” She winked, and walked away.

Opal slid over a couple of chairs to land next to Asami. “She’s prettier than I remember from the gallery,” she whispered. “I wonder where she got that jacket. I think I’ll ask her after you’re done making out with her.”

Asami sighed. “I’ve officially muted you.”

“Want a mint?” Opal smirked when Asami took one. “The key is to forget that you’re you and that she’s her and that you’re secretly in love with her best friend.”

Asami was about to protest the term ‘in love’ or at the very least kick her assistant in the shins, when Taylor intervened.

“Everyone ready?”

Asami stood up and joined Kuvira in front of the camera. They were practically the same height, though Kuvira was perhaps an inch shorter. It worked well, Asami thought.

“Nice to see you again,” she said, thinking it would be rude not to say anything at all.

Kuvira seemed surprised that Asami had spoken but she covered it up quickly. “You, too. Wish it were under less awkward circumstances.”

Asami smiled at that, and then they waited.

“Action.”

Asami slipped into character, letting Elizabeth take over. She pushed all thoughts of Korra and Kuvira from her mind, and when she looked up from the pages in her hand, she saw only a stranger at a bar. “So, what would you say is your favorite line?”

Kuvira looked up and then around as if uncertain she’d been addressed. “I’m sorry?”

“If someone were trying to hit on you, what line would work, usually? Something about your eyes, maybe?”

Green eyes reflected both confusion and amusement. “Are you trying to hit on me?”

“Well, not yet. I have to settle on a good way to do it first. I mean, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

A smile and then, “Take your time.” Pause. “Can I buy you a drink while we’re both waiting?”

“I wasn’t planning on drinking tonight.”

“Which is why you came to a bar?”

Asami offered a hint of a smile. “Well, if I drink it will lower my inhibitions and then getting up the nerve to ask you to come back to my place would be monumentally easier. I like a challenge.”

“I see. I guess that means I should stop drinking, then. I might say yes too easily.”

Asami grinned. “And I would certainly hate that.”

“Have you decided on how to hit on me yet?”

“I was thinking I’d say something about fate and how it brought us here tonight.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit presumptuous?”

“Well, I think fate is allowed to be arrogant.”

Kuvira smiled softly. “I meant of the idea that fate would go through all that trouble for a one night stand.”

Asami stopped to consider. “Maybe. But I think fate is on my side for once.”

“Why’s that?”

“Anyone else would’ve slapped me by now.”

There was a laugh. “That’s possible.” Kuvira stepped closer and Asami knew that she should be panicking, but Elizabeth wasn’t the type to panic and so, at that moment, neither was she. “Anyone else probably wouldn’t do this.”

Kuvira pressed her body against Asami’s, and the lines between fiction and reality blurred for Asami as soft lips touched hers.

***

Korra scanned the list of incoming emails and sighed, pushing the laptop away. A mixture of disappointment and annoyance overcame her; disappointment that Sami hadn’t written and annoyance at herself for caring so much. She stretched out on the bed and reached for her sketch pad. Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” played from her computer as she stared at the blank page of the notebook. She let the music carry away the seconds spent lying there, doing nothing.

The song drowned the sound of the front door opening, but from her bed Korra had a clear view of Kuvira walking into the living room. “How did it go?” she called through the open door, simultaneously muting the computer.

Kuvira came to a stop in the doorway to Korra’s bedroom. “I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not going to believe me.”

Korra sat up. “You got the part?”

“No. Well. I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Korra leaned back against the headboard. “Go on then. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Kuvira leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Guess who I just made out with.”

“Um, the person you had to audition with?”

Kuvira smiled. “And who do you think that was?” She sighed at Korra’s blank stare. “Here’s a hint: she’s starring in the movie.”

It took Korra a moment longer than it probably should have to think of Asami Sato, and when she did, her jaw dropped. “No way.”

Kuvira only nodded, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“You kissed Asami Sato?” Korra asked, trying to wrap her mind around the thought of her best friend making out with the actress.

“Mmhmm.” Kuvira pushed herself away from the door and sat on Korra’s bed. “We had this totally flirtatious scene together, which apparently only gets steamier. And then I had to kiss her.”

“Wow,” said Korra, trying to picture it all and failing.

“I really thought it’d be weirder, but... I don’t know. I was totally into the scene and acting with Asami was really intense, you know? And when it came time to kiss her I wasn’t nervous at all. It was so cool.”

“Kissing her?” Korra was trying to go along with Kuvira’s enthusiasm, but her emotions weren’t letting her. She felt strange suddenly; overcome by a flurry of emotions that made no sense to her.

“No, I mean the whole experience. The first audition was fine, but it was a lot more involved this time. I guess ‘cause I was acting with someone instead of just reading lines. But, oh my God, I kissed Asami Sato.” Kuvira was practically bouncing on the bed.

Korra forced a smile, curiosity getting the better of her. “And what was that like?”

Kuvira grinned. “It was hot. And I’m hoping it looked even hotter cause I really want this part.”

Korra wanted to know more; she wanted details she didn’t know how to ask for. She decided to drop it. She was starting to make herself uncomfortable. “So when do you find out if you got it?”

Kuvira shrugged. “No idea. Hopefully tomorrow.” She stood. “I’m gonna go call everyone I know and tell them that I made out with Asami Sato. I’m going to make so many people jealous tonight.”

Korra watched her go, trying to decipher what about the thought of Kuvira and Asami kissing bothered her so much. Perhaps nothing did, she considered. Perhaps she was just frustrated that she couldn’t come up with a single idea for Asami’s wall and any mention of the actress only served to bring her down.

That had to be it, she decided, turning the music back on. Either that or PMS, she added, hitting a key on the computer to make the screensaver disappear. She glanced at her inbox because she couldn’t help it, but there was nothing new.

She sighed and opened a fresh email.

_ To: Sami T. _

_ From: Korra  _

_ Subject: Random and totally out of context question _

_ Do you ever feel weird for no reason? _

_ -K. _

_ P.S. This email is a shameless attempt to get you to write back to me. _

_ P.P.S. Did you finish Harry Potter? _

Korra thought of Asami Sato as she typed the final words, and it occurred to her that she could have just as easily been asking the actress the same question.

Korra stared thoughtfully at the screen for a long time before finally hitting send.

***

The lights were on in her apartment when Asami came home and had she not been warned by the doorman that she had an unexpected guest, she might have been concerned.

“Bolin?” she called.

“In here.”

Asami followed the sound of his voice and found her best friend in the kitchen, seated on one of the stools Opal had brought over in a moment of defiance. Bolin was dressed casually in a green t-shirt and jeans, and though nothing in his demeanor betrayed his mood, Asami could tell something was wrong. “Hey,” she said, looking at him carefully. “What’s going on?”

Bolin sighed and looked at her. “I think I need to break up with Opal.”

Asami’s heart sank. “Oh, no. Why?” She frowned at him. “Are you cheating on her? You better not be che—“

“I’m not cheating on her,” he interrupted, sounding frustrated. “It’s this whole... “ He waved his hands around. Then he looked indignant. “You know I had to get rid of all my girl-on-girl porn?”

Asami had no idea how to react to that. “Um... okay?”

“I was worried that she’d find it and want to watch it and then get all turned on and then realize that maybe she’d rather have a girlfriend.”

Asami rolled her eyes and removed her coat, draping it over the counter. “Yes, because Lesbian Bitches II can have that effect on a woman.”

“You never know. Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“I dropped everything off at your place,” he said, winking. “Figured you could get some enjoyment out of it.”

“Excellent! I’ll just invite Opal over and we can enjoy it together.”

Bolin frowned. “That’s just mean.”

“You’re being idiotic,” she said flatly, and walked over to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “You need to put your male ego aside and get it through your thick skull that she loves you. God knows why.”

“I’m really good in bed. And I am a great cuddler.”

“Then what are you so worried about? Stop being such a wuss and admit that you’re totally in love with her and that it freaks you out because you’ve got the emotional maturity of a gnat.”

“Hmm...” Bolin seemed to consider this, then looked up sharply. “Hey, didn’t you have that audition thing with the hot brunette today?”

Asami let out a long breath and leaned against the counter, thoughts of the kiss flashing through her mind. “We kissed. For like an eternity it seemed like before Taylor finally yelled cut.”

“Wonder if Opal managed to get some of that on video?” Bolin looked thoughtful. “Man, I hope so. Was it like full on make out session? Was there tongue?”

Asami rolled her eyes at him. 

Bolin only grinned. “Oh come on. Tell me something. Did you enjoy it?”

Asami thought back to the moment in question. There had been a split second of panic in which she’d forgotten that she was supposed to be acting. But she’d somehow managed to sink back into character, and then it had felt like every other kiss that had ever come before. “Her lips were soft,” she said, because that had been her first impression. “But other than that, it was... acting.”

“You should’ve gotten Kara an audition.”

Asami frowned briefly. “Korra.”

“Korra, sorry,” he amended. “How’s that going, anyway?”

“Well, I’m still lying to her, and earlier, I made out with her best friend. So, you tell me.”

Bolin smiled. “That just sounds like my life back in college.”

Asami sighed. “Don’t you think Opal is wondering where you are?”

“Yeah, she probably is.” He turned serious suddenly. “And you’re right, I am totally crazy about her.”

“Crazy being the operative word here.”

“And it does freak me out.”

Asami smiled sympathetically. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Or... you know, anything stupider than you usually do.”

“I can make no such promise.” Bolin stood and grabbed his coat from the stool next to him. “So when are you telling Korra the truth?”

“I don’t know. Soon.”

Bolin looked at her, but said nothing. He offered a kind smile and kissed her cheek. “She’s not going to hate you.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t. I just thought it was one of those b.s.-type things you wanted me to tell you. Like ‘it’s going to be fine.’”

“Okay. Just stick to encouraging me to get laid. You’re much better at that.”

He grinned and headed toward the door. “Thanks for the chat. I feel a lot better.”

“Wish I could say the same!”

Bolin laughed and walked out the door.

Asami stood with her back against the counter, letting the silence descend upon her. Her thoughts bounced around from nothing in particular to Korra and back again.

Tomorrow, she decided. She would tell Korra the truth tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH
> 
> Side note, I think y’all might shit your pants after I post chapter 36 tomorrow night. Get ready 🤪


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Opal and Bolin dug into their breakfast with abandon, and Asami wondered when it was that they’d last eaten. She watched them now, sitting in her kitchen, shoveling mouthfuls of eggs and bacon into their mouths as though they’d been wandering through the desert and at last found an oasis.

“God, this is so good,” Bolin said, between bites. “What did you put in this?”

“Eggs,” Asami said flatly. She watched them for a moment longer. “I’m sorry, did you guys spend the past week in the jungle?”

Opal swallowed half the glass of orange juice before replying. “We, uh, had a long night.”

“We were talking,” Bolin said.

“Talking,” Opal echoed quickly.

“Right.” Asami could all but see the quotation marks around the word “talking,” but she smiled anyway. She leaned against the counter that separated them.

“So,” said Opal. “What did you call us over for? Not that we don’t appreciate the breakfast, because we do.”

Asami cleared her throat. “I’m planning to tell Korra the truth. Today.”

They stopped eating abruptly.

Bolin frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He put down his fork and looked at her, his black eyes shining with something like concern. “Because what’s stopping her from releasing all those emails to the press?”

Asami almost sighed. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I do and she wouldn’t.” Asami insisted because she was certain it was true. Korra would never stoop that low.

“Maybe you should have her sign a non-disclosure agreement before telling her.” This from Opal.

Asami hadn’t expected this. The months of teasing had only prepared her for more teasing. “Are you guys kidding me?”

“You made me sign one,” Opal pointed out.

Asami did sigh then. She grew serious. “Look, I’m telling her. Today. For better or worse I want all of this lying to end. And I need you guys to be onboard with this.”

They exchanged concerned glances but finally nodded. “How do you plan to tell her?” Bolin picked up his fork again and Asami relaxed.

“Well,” Asami began, “I have no idea. That’s why you guys are here. I figured you could help me rehearse.”

“Rehearse,” Opal repeated, looking doubtful. “Shouldn’t it be a little more natural? Shouldn’t it come from the heart?”

“Yes, if I want to fall completely apart in front of her.”

“Okay,” Bolin said, “How about... you kiss her. She’ll be so startled that when you go, ‘and by the way I’m really Sami’ she’ll be too distracted to notice.”

Asami resisted the urge to slap him over the head. “Why don’t I just flash her as I tell her?”

“That might work too.”

Asami turned to Opal. “Any ideas?”

“You could just email her.”

Asami had considered that. “But then I run the risk of her not believing me.”

Bolin chuckled. “You could attach a picture of yourself holding up a sign that says, ‘no really it’s true.’”

Asami grabbed his plate and pulled it away from him, out of reach.

“Hey!” Bolin pouted, holding up his fork menacingly. “Give that back.”

Asami ignored him. “I thought I’d just invite her over and... then... just tell her.”

Bolin had come around the island to get his plate back. Asami let him.

“Then that’s what you should do,” Opal said.

Asami nodded. That’s what she’d do. She’d invite Korra over and then confess. But how to confess? How to even begin explaining?

***

Another class day over and Korra couldn’t have been more glad to have it all behind her. She rode the elevator up to her floor watching the flickering light above her threaten to give out.

The elevator groaned with the effort of existing, and Korra briefly wondered what it might feel like if it were to suddenly give out and plummet to the ground. But the thought was morbid and she pushed it aside. The doors opened, slowly, noisily, but altogether proudly - as if to say, “And here you thought I wouldn’t make it.”

The hallway was well-lit, surprisingly. A new light bulb? Korra wondered. A neighbor turned the corner, dragging along a toddler who was yelling something Korra couldn’t make out. Korra tried to smile politely, trying to offer something akin to understanding, even sympathy. But what did Korra know about having a child? The question was crystal clear on the neighbor’s face as she silently passed by, the kid trailing behind, shouting.

Korra unlocked the door and stepped inside the apartment. The TV was on which meant Kuvira was not at work. “I’m home!” she called. She closed the door and dropped the keys into the pocket of her jacket. She made her way to the living room.

Kuvira was lounging on the couch, her feet propped on the coffee table and Korra’s computer on her lap. When she looked up she was grinning. “Guess who’s been cast in the next Asami Sato movie?”

It took Korra a few long seconds to realize that the answer was Kuvira. “They called? You got it?”

“About an hour ago. I called to tell you but I got your voicemail.”

“I turned off the phone for class.” Korra was smiling, trying to build up the appropriate level of enthusiasm, but Kuvira seemed calm; like she was over it all, which made Korra unsure of what to say. Finally, she dropped down on the couch beside her friend and said, “How can you be so nonchalant?”

Kuvira turned her head in Korra’s direction, her wavy brown hair in a pony tail. “I yelled and screamed and jumped around so much that one of the neighbors came over to tell me to shut the hell up. And now... well now I’m just fucking exhausted. You, however, have a lot of screaming and jumping to catch up on.”

Korra smiled and leaned over to peek at the computer screen. “What are you doing?”

“Research,” Kuvira said simply. “Or stalking, depending which way you look at it. I’ve been researching everyone that’s in the film. I left Asami Sato for last though so we could stalk her together.”

Korra frowned and stood up, shrugging out of her jacket. It was hot in the apartment for a change. “I don’t want to stalk Asami Sato.”

“Oh, come on, sure you do,” Kuvira said in a tone that bordered on whiny. “She’s all over the web. We can read up on all the gossip and then we can each take turns finding out what’s true. For example, she was seen kissing her co-star from Guardian a few weeks ago at some charity event. Can you find out if they’re together? He’s pretty hot.”

It was the first time Korra had thought of Asami Sato as potentially not single, and a part of her wondered what else the web might reveal about the actress. She sat back down. “I’m not going to ask her if she’s dating someone.”

“Why not? That’s easy enough to slip into a conversation.” Kuvira turned her attention to the screen. “Did you know Asami’s has a nickname?”

Korra wasn’t surprised, but she was suddenly curious. “What’s her nickname?”

“Er,” Kuvira said distractedly, looking at something on the screen. “Hang on. I’ve got her Wikipedia entry bookmarked.”

Korra waited patiently, her mind still trying to wrap itself around the fact that her best friend had landed a role in a movie. Playing a lesbian. A lesbian who got to have sex with Asami Sato. Korra blinked away any mental images of what that might entail.

“Okay, found it,” Kuvira said. “’Asami Sato was given the nickname "Sami" by her mother when she was born on August 10, 19—‘“

“Wait, what?” Korra grabbed the laptop somewhat suddenly and violently away from Kuvira.

She read over the words, their meaning sinking in. That was Sami’s birth date. And Asami Sato's nickname is Sami. What the hell? Korra handed the computer back to Kuvira and stood, her head spinning with questions. Sami Taso... Taso...Ta...so... Sato? Sami Sato?

“What’s wrong?” Kuvira sounded concerned. “Korra?”

Korra forced a smile. “Ah, nothing. Sorry. I just um... I need to lie down, I think. Cramps.”

She started toward her bedroom and shut the door, knowing Kuvira would come knocking eventually. She looked around the room, not really seeing anything. Her mind was racing. Sami. Maybe it was a coincidence? Such things happened. Didn’t they?

Her phone began to chime, interrupting her thoughts and Korra dug it out of her jacket pocket. She tossed the jacket on the bed and looked at the display screen: Opal. Frowning, she answered. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Korra, it’s Opal, Asami Sato’s assistant. Asami was hoping you could stop by her apartment tonight?”

Korra’s frown deepened. “I haven’t come up with anything—“

“She just wants to talk.”

Korra didn’t know what to make of that. What would Asami Sato want to talk about? The artwork she hadn’t yet started on? The fact that her best friend was now in her movie?

“Okay, sure, what time?”

“Any time today is fine,” Opal replied. “Feel free to drop by.”

“Okay.” Korra hung up feeling overwhelmed. She had to talk to Sami. They had to clear the air. Korra dialed Sami’ number and waited for her voice to appear suddenly in Korra’s ear. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d talked. There was the click of someone picking up, followed by the robotic sound of Sami’ voicemail, “You’ve reached 3-1-0...” Korra hung up.

She picked up her jacket and walked out of the door. She’d go visit Asami Sato. Maybe the trek would clear her mind.

Kuvira was looking at her funny when Korra passed. “Where are you going? I thought you had cramps?”

“Asami Sato has summoned me to her lair,” Korra replied. “Be back later.”

“Find out if she’s dating her costar!”

Korra let the request hang in the air as she headed for the door.

***

The ride uptown felt longer than usual. Korra tried to pour her jumbled thoughts onto a sketchpad, if only to contain them for a short while, but her mind kept drifting to Sami. What was going on?

A man sat beside her on the subway. He reeked heavily of alcohol and the pungent scent of him fell on Korra like a wave. At the next stop, she moved to sit elsewhere and landed next to a girl with short spiky hair who smiled at Korra as if she knew something Korra didn’t.

Once above ground, Korra tried Sami’ number again. It rang and went to voicemail, and Korra gave up. She hurried down the sidewalk toward Asami Sato’s apartment. She kept glancing at her phone, willing it to ring. She shouldn’t care this much, she reminded herself, but her stomach was in knots; she felt anxious.

The doorman waved her through without protest and Korra hurried toward the elevator. The sooner she got to Asami Sato’s apartment the sooner she could leave.

Korra knocked on Asami’s door and waited. She could hear the actress’ voice on the other side and wondered if Asami had company. “...don’t want to bring a date to the party,” Korra heard Asami say, and then the door opened. “Sorry, Taylor, can I call you back?” the actress said into the cell phone at her ear. She looked surprised to see Korra standing there.

Korra took a moment to inspect the actress’ outfit du jour: blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She thought of Megan’s proclamations about Asami Sato’s taste in clothes and wondered what she’d say if she knew the actress seemed perfectly at home wearing Levi’s and what looked to be a Fruit of the Loom t-shirt. Asami had a watch, Korra noted. And that much looked expensive. “Your assistant said to come whenever...”

Asami looked nervous. That was the first thing Korra noticed. The second thing Korra noticed was the smell; or lack thereof. She’d gotten used to smelling food when walking into Asami Sato’s apartment. But there was no coffee brewing and no food cooking. There was simply the soft, lingering scent of Asami Sato’s perfume—or was it soap?—as she passed by to close the door. The actress’ hair was wet; that was the third thing Korra noticed.

“Thanks for coming,” Asami said, sounding apologetic. And nervous. Why was Asami Sato so nervous? If she wanted to fire Korra all she had to do was say so.

Korra slipped out of her jacket. The apartment was its usual sauna-like temperature and Korra idly wondered at Asami’s electricity bill. She followed the actress into the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Korra settled on one of the stools by the marble counter as the actress headed for the fridge. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Asami let the fridge close and walked over to sit on the remaining stool. She placed her cell phone on the counter and sighed. “So, you’re probably wondering—“

Ringing interrupted whatever Asami Sato was about to say, and Korra glanced at the cell phone between them before realizing that the sound was coming from much further away.

Asami slid off the stool and looked apologetic. “It’s my other phone, sorry,” she said, heading off in the direction of the stairs. “I’ve been waiting for this stupid call from my agent. Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

How many phones did one person need? Korra glanced up to see the actress in her room. The ringing had stopped and Asami was speaking in hushed tones with whomever as on the other end of the line. Korra looked around, taking a moment to observe the view beyond the windows. Her mind drifted back to Sami. Maybe she could text her. Maybe Sami was somewhere where she couldn’t talk. But maybe a text message she’d get.

Korra took her cell phone out, glancing briefly to make sure Asami was still on the phone.

And then she typed, We need to talk. Call me, into the text area. She hit send and put the cell back in her pocket.

A second later, Asami Sato’s cell phone beeped, and Korra only glanced at it because the sound caught her attention. But then she stared. There on the screen of Asami Sato’s very expensive phone was the name she expected to see.

Her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
> *inhales*  
> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The screen on Asami’s phone turned off after a few seconds and Korra finally tore her gaze away. Her mind shut down, and a broken record took over. “Oh my God,” were the only words running through her mind. Her heart hammered in her chest as she took out her cell phone again. With shaking fingers she pressed the buttons. Calling Sami... appeared on the screen. She didn’t bother putting the phone to her ear. She simply watched Asami’s, thinking perhaps it had been a coincidence. Or a trick of the lights. Or proof that she needed to get glasses.

But then, there it was. A ringtone with a song she didn’t recognize. Incoming call from Korra. “Oh my God,” and this she said aloud. She stood because sitting felt impossible.

Asami was already walking back, and Korra looked up just in time to see the actress freeze mid-step. Comprehension dawned. For the longest time, neither said anything. The phone on the kitchen counter continued to ring.

Korra snapped her cell phone closed and silence fell over them.

“I was just about to tell you,” Asami said softly.

Snippets from emails and phone conversations suddenly flashed through Korra’s mind. All of that... had been Asami Sato? She sat back on the stool, because now standing felt impossible. There was no Sami. There had never been a Sami. It was this that shocked her. It was this that was unfathomable. And still she couldn’t formulate any words.

Asami took a tentative step forward. “Korra... I...”

There was nothing after that and Korra forced herself to look up, to look at Asami Sato and dare her to continue.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Asami said. “I thought it would come to me once you were in front of me but...”

The silence was unbearable, but Korra didn’t know what to say. She barely knew what to feel.

“I never meant to lie to you,” Asami began suddenly. “I fell in love that day in Central Park when I saw your sketch on that table. I... I’ve never felt like I had to have something quite so badly before. And I took it home and I had it framed and I would stare at it, and I know it may sound crazy but it made me feel... I don’t know. It made me feel... better; less alone. And I thought you’d want to know that I loved it. Only, I couldn’t tell you who I was because I didn’t think you’d believe it. And because I have this thing about privacy, too. And really all I wanted was for you to know that it meant something to me, you having created that sketch. It affected me, somehow.”

Korra only stared at the actress because she couldn’t yet muster a reaction. The words weren’t quite sinking in. All she could think about was how one moment she’d had a friend in California and now... what? What was she left with?

“I know you must think I’m a horrible person,” Asami continued. “I hadn’t expected that the emails would continue or that they would spiral into something so...” She let the sentence hang, and picked up another. “I didn’t want the fact that I’m Asami Sato to taint the way you saw me.”

Asami looked so pained that Korra looked away for fear that she’d be tempted to comfort the actress. She suddenly felt too many things at once. She felt a rush of anger and sadness and a lingering sense of loss. Mostly she felt tired. The fall-asleep-and-wake-up-days-later kind of tired.

“Please say something.”

The actress’ voice was soft and pleading and Korra forced another glance at Asami. “I think I should go,” she said.

***

“Please don’t.” She sounded pathetic even to her own ears. She couldn’t begin to imagine how she sounded to Korra. This wasn’t at all how Asami had envisioned things. Korra wasn’t supposed to figure it out. Not today. Not moments before Asami was about to tell her.

Korra’s face revealed nothing of her thoughts, and Asami had no idea what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes. “Why not?” She met Asami’s gaze. “What do you want me to say? That it’s okay? That I understand? Well, it’s not okay and I don’t understand. So I think it’s for the best if I go.”

Asami’s vision blurred with tears and she looked away. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of Korra. “Okay,” she said, forcing the emotions out of her voice. Korra passed by her and Asami turned to watch her go. A part of her hoped that Korra would turn around and say something else, something to soften the blow of the departure. But she didn’t.

The front door echoed through the apartment as it slammed shut.

***

Korra couldn’t remember getting back home. She couldn’t remember anything beyond walking out of Asami Sato’s apartment. And now she was standing in front of her door, staring at the number as if it might suddenly come to life and make everything better. She sighed and unlocked the door. She could hear music coming from Kuvira’s bedroom the moment she stepped inside and she suddenly regretted coming home.

She almost turned around to head back out, but Kuvira wandered out of her room at that very moment.

“Oh, you’re back,” Kuvira said cheerfully. “Guess what?”

Korra kicked the door closed and tried not to sigh at her best friend. “What?”

“Taylor Rose called to invite me to a party.” Kuvira all but bounced as she said this. “And because I’m the greatest friend in the whole world, I asked if I could bring you, and she said yes!”

Korra had never felt more depressed. “A party?”

Kuvira was grinning. “Yeah! For the movie. The whole cast’s going to be there.”

That was all Korra needed: a party with Asami Sato. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She brushed against Kuvira as she passed.

“I’m sorry, was I speaking Chinese just now?” Kuvira trailed after Korra. “This is a big deal.”

“Yes, for you it’s a big deal.” Korra was in an awful mood and Kuvira wasn’t helping. She shouldn’t have come home. She should’ve gone for a walk through the park or stopped for coffee somewhere. Once in her room, she began removing her coat.

Kuvira leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “What’s wrong?”

Korra dropped her scarf on the bed and took a deep breath. She considered, for the briefest of moments, telling Kuvira everything that had just happened. But Korra wasn’t altogether certain what had happened, other than she’d simultaneously lost an employer and what appeared to be an imaginary friend. “Just stupid people in the subway pissing me off,” she said instead.

“Yes, but I guarantee none of them are invited to Taylor Rose’s party,” Kuvira said, and smiled.

Korra forced a smile in return. Kuvira didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Korra’s bad mood.

“Look, the party isn’t until Saturday and hopefully by then you’ll be free of cramps and PMS.”

“Kuvira, I hate parties. You know I hate parties. Why would you drag me to this?”

“Because this isn’t just a party, Korra. This is a celebrity gathering. Forget stupid college parties. Those are way behind us now. We’re stepping into an entirely new world of social interaction.”

Korra dropped down on the bed. “Fine,” she said, not meaning it. On Saturday she’d come down with a migraine. Or a cold. Or whatever would get her out of having to go.

But for now, Kuvira looked satisfied and that was enough for Korra. Her best friend mercifully retreated from the bedroom and Korra closed the door. Alone with her thoughts, she returned to the bed and lay down.

There was no Sami.

This was still the thought going through her mind. There was no funny, mysterious girl in California who liked to read books that Korra would never dream of reading on her own. There was no one to text message during class, out of boredom, and no one to text her back.

There was no one to email in the middle of the night.

Her thoughts inevitably turned to Asami Sato. The actress’ words were still dancing around in Korra’s mind and Korra still didn’t know how to feel. Somewhere between Asami Sato’s apartment and her own, the anger had dissipated. But the confusion remained.

There was no Sami. But there was an Asami. An Asami that liked to cook random and elaborate meals for no apparent reason. An Asami that dressed simply but lived extravagantly and who seemed to have a very strong and mystifying aversion to furniture.

Korra frowned at the ceiling. Maybe she should have stayed and talked things through. Maybe she had been hasty in her departure and entirely too cold in her reaction. The memory of Asami’s tear-filled eyes flashed suddenly through Korra’s mind and she felt a sudden flood of regret for having walked out.

But were those tears real? How did you trust someone who’d lied to you for months? How did you trust someone who played pretend for a living?

How much of Sami was Asami? And how much was a lie?

***

Asami had been surprised by the knock at the door and she had rushed to answer it, thinking—hoping— that perhaps Korra had returned to continue the conversation. But it was a false hope, and she knew it before she checked on the identity of her visitor. Sighing, she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

Opal smiled and held up a bag. “Getting you really drunk.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Opal put the bag down. “You look like shit,” she said.

“Goodbye, Opal.” Asami closed the door and started to move away. But the knock came again. “I’m not in the mood!”

“You have to talk about it,” came Opal’s voice from the other side.

“I really don’t.”

“Well can I at least use your bathroom?”

Asami hesitated. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Because you’re my boss and I would never dream of lying to you.” Asami rolled her eyes but opened the door. “Make it quick.”

Opal rushed in and headed toward the kitchen. “Haha, sucker!” She laughed. “I’m putting the vodka in your freezer!”

Asami wasn’t in the mood for this. She swung the door closed and headed up to her bedroom. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Maybe if she ignored her, Opal would go away.

Asami closed her eyes in the darkness beneath her comforter. She felt like a mess. After Korra had gone, Asami had read the text message Korra had sent earlier in the day. There were also a bunch of missed calls that must have come while she’d been on the phone with Taylor. Korra must have suspected something. And it was almost inevitable that she would eventually. But did it have to be today?

She heard Opal on the stairs and a moment later, the covers were yanked away.

“This isn’t good,” Opal said, tossing the covers off the bed entirely. “Depression doesn’t suit you. Come on. Talk to me.”

“What is there to say?” Asami crawled across the bed to get the covers back. “She hates me, which is the least depressing of my thoughts. At this point I’m merely hoping that she hates me. If she hates me at least that means she cares. If she doesn’t hate me then that leaves... what? Indifference. Ugh.” She pulled the covers over her head again.

Opal sighed and sat down at the edge of the bed. “If she were indifferent she wouldn’t have walked out. She would’ve said... I don’t know... ‘pass the cheese.’”

Asami frowned and pushed the covers aside. “’Pass the cheese?’”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what indifference sounds like.”

“But ‘pass the cheese’? Who says ‘pass the cheese’?”

Opal thought about it. “Mice?”

Asami rolled her eyes and sat up. After a moment, she said, “I hate this. I mean, I saw it coming but...”

“Give her time. She’ll come around.”

But Asami shook her head. “I don’t want to believe that. I can’t believe that. It’s better if I just have no hope at all.” 

“Look, you’re going to be acting in the same movie as her friend, so odds are you’re going to see her again anyway.”

Asami covered her face with her hands. “I had totally forgotten about that.” She had forgotten entirely about Kuvira. “What if Korra tells Kuvira everything? What if Kuvira gets pissed off and decides to out me?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Opal said calmly.

It sounded so rational coming from Opal’s lips that Asami had no choice but to believe it. She sank back into her pillows. “I’m tired,” she said, hoping Opal would take the hint.

Opal looked at her with concern but nodded. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m leaving you the vodka.”

Asami almost smiled. “Thanks for coming by to check on me.”

Opal stood. “You’re welcome. Bolin wanted to come, too, but his idea of cheering you up was bringing you flowers and ordering a stripper. So I told him I could handle it.”

“And thanks for that too.”

Opal paused on her way down the stairs. “I do think she’ll come around,” she said, and then continued on her way.

Asami listened for the sound of the front door and when it came, she let out a breath. Korra might forgive her, she knew, but it was more likely that she’d never want to talk to Asami again. And as much as it killed her to sit by and do nothing, doing something felt inappropriate. She couldn’t call and she couldn’t just show up at Korra’s doorstep. Emailing was a silly idea, and text messaging was worse.

So she was left only with waiting and secretly hoping for the best.

***

Korra woke to the sound of a car commercial on television and she watched the flickering images on the screen until her mind began to clear. She sat up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. And then she heard the knock on the door.

Yawning, she stood up, wondering at the time. The light in Kuvira’s room was off and the door was open, which meant her roommate was out. Did Kuvira work that night? Korra couldn’t remember. She hated naps. Time always felt displaced afterwards. She reached the door and paused with her hand on the lock. “Who is it?” she called, and wondered if anyone anywhere would honestly answer, “a murderer.”

“It’s Opal.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Korra’s fuzzy mind, and the door was halfway open before she fully remembered who it was.

Asami Sato’s assistant stood in the hallway, looking hesitant. “I’m really sorry for showing up like this,” she said.

Questions floated through Korra’s mind. “How did you know where I live?”

“Taylor Rose gave me the address,” Opal said, and had the decency to sound embarrassed about it.

The name Taylor Rose also sounded familiar but Korra couldn’t quite remember who that was. Someone from Kuvira’s movie?

“Look, before you ask, Asami didn’t send me here. In fact, she’d kill me and possibly fire me if she knew I was here.”

Korra felt awkward standing there in the open doorway. She could almost hear her mom’s voice in her head yelling at her about manners. “Do you want to come in?”

Opal looked grateful and smiled slightly as she entered. “Is your roommate home?”

Korra shook her head as she closed the door. “No, she seems to be out.”

Opal looked relieved. “Look, I don’t want to impose. And I probably shouldn’t even be here talking to you about this, but I thought... I thought maybe I could help.”

It was odd how so much of her real life felt like a dream these days. Korra stepped into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks, I’m okay.”

Korra took a bottle of juice out of the fridge and filled a glass. “So, how would you like to help? Are you here as Asami Sato’s character witness?”

“I guess. She’s not... she’s not who you think she is.”

Korra snorted and put the juice back in the fridge. “Well, that much I learned already.” She motioned to a chair, but Opal shook her head.

“Look, I get that her lying to you was awful, but you have to understand where she’s coming from,” Opal began. “She’s not some unfeeling asshole that gets her kicks from hurting people. That artwork she bought from you at the park... she honestly loves it. She had me cart it to a dozen different places until she found a frame she liked. And it’s not because she’s picky about such things normally. She just wanted it to be perfect.”

Korra put the glass of juice down as a way to show that she was listening.

Encouraged, Opal continued. “And her writing to you... that was huge for her. I’ve known Asami for years and she’s never done anything of the kind. She’s a very private person, especially lately because she’s so popular. And her lying to you may have been partly to protect herself, certainly, but it was mostly because that was the only way she had of being herself and of knowing that you were genuine. She doesn’t get to experience that often, if at all. She’s constantly surrounded by people with hidden agendas. And so befriending you was special to her, because she didn’t have to worry about you wanting anything from her, or you simply talking to her because she’s famous.” Opal breathed. “Sorry if I’m rambling.”

Korra was quiet as she mulled over Opal’s words. She shrugged and sat down. She felt too emotionally drained to stand. “I understand,” she said. “But I still don’t know what she wants from me.”

Opal seemed to sigh, and after a moment, she too sat down. “I don’t think she wants anything. But I know your friendship’s important to her.” She watched Korra for a moment. “Look, I have no idea what the two of you wrote to each other. Asami never discussed these things with me or with anyone, for that matter, so I can’t comment on the particulars. But you kept emailing her, so I’m assuming you found something worth liking in the person you were writing to.”

“I did,” Korra admitted, thinking of the emails and the phone calls and the text messages. “I liked her very much.”

Opal nodded. After a moment, she said. “I have to admit I’m kind of envious of you. For years I wanted Asami to open up to me and be herself around me because I could see traces of who she really is as a person, especially around Bolin. And I’ve gotten a lot closer to her, particularly over the past few months. But there’s still a bit of a wall with her. There’s always a bit of distance. But she has none of that with you. She’d lay her secrets at your feet if you asked her to.”

Korra didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t even know quite what to make of it.

“I’ve embarrassed you, I’m sorry.” Opal gave a somewhat sheepish grin. “I’m just saying... she’s still the same person you were writing to. All that’s changed is her name, which is technically her nickname. And I know that your feelings on the subject must still be incredibly raw and confusing. But I wanted to give you some perspective on everything. I doubt you’d trust these things coming from her. I’m not even sure she’d know where to start defending herself. She feels awful.”

Korra only nodded. She still didn’t know how to feel about everything. Understanding why someone did something was a long way from overlooking it. And still, there were questions. “Why did she tell me she was a lesbian?”

Opal looked surprised. She looked down at the table. “I think you should probably talk to Asami about that.” She sounded nervous.

Interesting, Korra thought. She’d been expecting a different reaction. A laugh, maybe, to show how ridiculous the notion was. But Opal looked uncomfortable. Could it be? Had Asami Sato been telling the truth? Korra had spent the day being irritated by the lies, thinking that the actress had made everything up. But now she wasn’t so sure. If Asami Sato was gay that meant she’d outed herself to Korra. But that was crazy. Why would she do that?

“Talk to her,” Opal said again, as if she could read the thoughts dancing in Korra’s head. She stood. “I should go. I’ve got a car waiting.” She smiled somewhat shyly. “Thanks for listening. Really. I thought you’d slam the door in my face.”

Korra stood, too. “I can slam it after you leave, if you want.” She ventured a smile.

Opal grinned and headed into the hallway. “Catch you around,” she said, opening the door. “Hopefully.”

Korra had no answer for that but she nodded politely. She closed the door as Opal retreated down the hall. Alone once again, she turned to face the apartment. It was probably good that she’d taken a nap because sleep wouldn’t come now. The thoughts and the questions were zooming through her brain at turbo speeds.

She picked up her glass of juice from the counter and headed for her room. There was only one thing to do now, she decided. She’d read through all the emails again and try to put herself in Asami Sato’s shoes. Maybe then she’d get some answers.

Or at least more questions to add to the pile.

***

Asami was awake when the first knock came. She’d been staring at the alarm clock for hours, marveling at how slowly time passed in the absence of distraction. She hadn’t slept.

She’d busied herself with thoughts and the occasional show on television, but she hadn’t slept.

The clock switched to 7:04am just as the second knock came. Asami wanted to ignore it, thinking that it was probably Opal again. Or maybe Bolin. Or worse yet, a stripper. But she got up anyway, because it was the wrong time for any of those visitors, which meant it might be something important.

Her hand was on the handle when the third knock came, and she barely registered who it was before she swung the door open. “Korra.”

Korra was standing in the hallway, looking tired and disheveled, dressed in paint-stained jeans and her usual black coat. Her wavy brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, and she looked perfectly serious as she said, “I have questions.”

Asami opened the door and let the artist in, trying not to let herself feel relieved or even hopeful.

Korra removed her coat and sat down on the second step. “I’ve been up all night reading your emails to me,” she said, looking down at the ground, or maybe at her feet. “And then I spent a while looking up things about you on the Internet.”

Asami cringed at that. “A terrifying thought...”

Korra looked up. “There’s a lot of rumors about you and that guy from your show.”

“I just bet,” Asami muttered.

“So it’s not true?” Korra pressed.

Asami felt depressed suddenly. Korra wanted celebrity gossip? That’s why she’d come? “No. It’s not remotely true.”

Korra watched her curiously, looking like she wanted to say more but not knowing quite how to phrase it. She looked down again. “It was weird reading the emails again,” she said softly. “Trying to insert the thought of you where my image of Sami used to be...”

Asami waited, her heart pounding heavily in her chest.

“And it wasn’t hard. Which was weird because I don’t know you very well. But you were always so vague about everything in the emails...” Korra looked up again. She took a deep breath. “Why did you tell me you were gay?”

The bluntness of the question took Asami by surprise, and she hesitated. Paranoid thoughts ran through her mind. If this conversation ended up on YouTube she would never forgive her own stupidity. She had no reason to trust this girl. No reason at all. And still she said, “Because I am.”

Korra stared at her. “But why did you tell me? Why would you trust me with that?”

Asami sighed, relaxing somewhat. She couldn’t stand anymore. She was starting to feel dizzy. So she walked over to the stairs and climbed past Korra. She sat two steps above her, forcing the artist to turn around. “Because,” she said, finally, “when you’re a famous artist I can blackmail you back with your toilet paper square collection... and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Korra cracked a hint of a smile and stretched along the length of the step, her back against the wall. “Artists are supposed to be quirky,” she said matter-of-factly. “People would find it adorable.” She turned serious. “Why did you really tell me? Why even admit it now?”

“Because I didn’t want to lie to you about it,” Asami said. “Because I wanted to trust you. Because I do trust you.”

Korra shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“You’ve called me that before.”

“Then I guess it must be true,” Korra said.

“Must be.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Asami didn’t know what to say because she couldn’t tell what Korra was thinking. Was it a good sign that Korra was there, talking to her about these things? Or was it just a prelude to goodbye?

“I won’t tell anyone,” Korra said after a while. She looked up at Asami. “Not even Kuvira.”

Asami didn’t know what to say. Saying “Thanks” seemed trite. So she let the silence settle over them again.

“I have more questions,” Korra said. “But I’m falling asleep.”

Asami was entirely too wired to think about sleep. Korra had more questions. Did that mean this wasn’t goodbye? She thought about asking Korra if she wanted to crash on her bed for a few hours, but that sounded inappropriate. “Do you want coffee?” she asked instead.

Korra seemed to consider it, but shook her head. She stood and grabbed her coat. “I should get going or I’ll end up asleep on the subway.”

Asami stood too. “Let me call you a car, at least.”

“It’s okay, really,” Korra said, making her way toward the door. She paused with her hand on the handle. “The whole... hiring me to paint on your wall thing... did you mean that or was that just an extension of your guilt?”

“I very much meant it,” Asami said, hoping she sounded as honest as she felt.

Korra looked thoughtful, but her features betrayed nothing as she opened the door. Then she paused again. “Look, I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about all of this,” she said. “There’s a part of me that understands and a part of me that wants nothing more to do with you. And a part of me that wants to forget the whole thing and just start over.” She looked pensively at the floor. “What do you want?”

“I want to be your friend,” Asami said simply, though she knew it wasn’t simple.

“Why?”

“Because,” Asami began, not really knowing where to go with this. “Because you’ve been here for at least fifteen minutes and in all of that time you’ve managed not to make fun of my Spongebob pajama pants.”

Korra did smile then. “I thought they were kind of cool.”

Asami ventured a smile.

“Catch you later,” Korra said.

Asami watched her walk away and then retreated back into her apartment. She felt exhausted suddenly, but also relieved and somewhat giddy. Everything wasn’t fine, but she no longer felt hopeless.

Now, she thought, as she climbed the stairs to her room, if she could figure out a way not to fall in love with this girl, everything would be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bump in the road. Don’t worry, they’ll get through this :)


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra lay in bed, sleepy but sleepless. She’d bought coffee on her way home from Asami’s, and that had been a mistake. She closed her eyes as her mind wandered back to the actress. Korra felt desperate to dissect every minute detail of this situation. She wanted to think of every question so that every question could be answered. Asami was Sami and Sami was Asami. It all seemed impossible.

Her thoughts drifted, dancing along the edges of her consciousness. Random images floated through her mind: a pen, a flower, a volleyball. She thought she might finally fall asleep. But then the actress’ face popped back into her mind.

Asami Sato was gay. It was this that Korra came back to. It was this she was having the hardest time believing. She wanted not to focus on what should’ve been a trivial matter. After all, Korra was not the sort of person that cared about the private lives of celebrities. It should have been an afterthought. But Asami Sato was gay and Korra could not get past it. She couldn’t get past the actress admitting to it in the first place.

How much would information like that be worth to the media? Probably a lot. And Asami Sato trusted Korra not to tell.

The thoughts wandered again. Sami was Asami. Did that mean that Asami had really never dated anyone? It seemed inconceivable. What of Bolin? And who was Saucy Fipbic? Someone Korra might recognize? It felt like detective work, piecing together all of the vague details from Sami’ emails and trying to make sense of them against the backdrop of Asami’s life. She couldn’t remember Saucy’s real name and it was driving Korra insane.

She opened her eyes and reached over the edge of the bed to get the laptop. She silently berated herself, but that didn’t stop her. Moments later she was entering keywords into a search engine. Asami had been in New York in December and if Korra recalled correctly that’s when the date with Saucy had occurred.

It took some time and quite a lot of clicking around from link to link and blog to blog but eventually she found what she’d been looking for. The blog post title read: “Asami Sato samples New York’s Fine Cuisine” and there was a candid picture of the actress standing next to a beautiful brunette. The article beneath the photo said, “Asami Sato dines out with writer-director/ex-Broadway star, Taylor Rose, at New York’s Gray’s Papaya.”

The article went on, but Korra stopped reading. She stared at the picture for a long time. So that was Saucy Fipbic. Not at all what Korra had pictured. The Saucy in her mind had always been somewhat plain and pimply, with shaved, boyish hair and maybe an excessive number of piercings. But Taylor Rose was anything but plain or pimply, and her hair was long and wavy and perfectly styled. The two of them made a stunning couple.

But were they a couple? Korra went back into her email archives to see if she’d somehow missed an email or two pertaining to the current status of Asami and Taylor’s relationship. The last Korra had on the subject was an email in which Saucy had been named the queen of mixed signals. “Hmm,” said Korra, switching back to her Internet browser.

Finding information about Taylor Rose was easier than Korra had expected. The woman was everywhere, even MySpace. Her details there read: single, lesbian. Korra spent some time looking at random pictures and reading people’s comments before deciding she’d done enough stalking for the day.

Korra jumped when the door to her room opened suddenly. Heart pounding fast, she frowned at Kuvira. “Please learn to knock,” she said.

“Oh whatever, like you’re ever in here doing anything naughty.” Kuvira leaned against the doorway. “You look like crap. Have you slept?”

Korra placed the laptop back on the floor and yawned. She shook her head by way of an answer.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone in a sec, then. Are you busy tonight?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Because I rented practically every movie Asami Sato’s ever been in. You know, for research. And I was hoping we could watch them tonight. I bought tons of popcorn. Oh! And I invited Adam.”

Korra sighed. “Why would you do that?”

“Which part?”

“The Adam part.”

“He came by the café the other day and I thought it’d be fun to do something together. You know, the three of us. Plus, I know you think he’s cute. I also know you’re too much of a wuss to call him and invite him to do anything, so you’re welcome.”

Korra was too tired to argue. She sank under the blankets. “I’m going to sleep now,” she announced.

“Okay. Oh hey, did you get the scoop on Asami Sato and that costar?”

“No,” Korra lied.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I’ll ask her at the party. Sweet dreams!”

The door closed behind Kuvira and Korra let out a long breath. Adam was coming over tonight? How did she feel about this? She didn’t know. She was too tired to think about it.

Instead, she turned on her side and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would finally come.

***

The limo inched along in New York City traffic and Asami leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. Outside, the world continued on. A man walked a dog. A lady spoke on her cell phone. She watched these strangers with a fleeting sense of curiosity. Who were they? Where were they going? Why?

The limo stopped and then moved along, changing Asami’s scenery, and with it, her thoughts. Korra. It all went back to Korra eventually. Asami wanted to call. She wanted to call and ask Korra if she wanted to go out somewhere, anywhere. She wanted to call and hear about Korra’ day. What had she done? What was she doing?

Her eyes closed. “This is so bad,” she whispered.

“What is so bad?” Opal looked up from her cell phone.

“Nothing.”

“Korra?” Opal guessed.

Asami bit her bottom lip, debating whether or not to say anything. She turned to Opal. “I just shouldn’t be thinking about her so much. I absolutely cannot fall for her.”

“Has it occurred to you at all that maybe it’s too late for that?”

Asami sighed and the window clouded where her breath hit it. “I have no idea how to tell the difference,” she admitted. “I tell myself it’s a crush because at least that’s transient. I can trust that it’ll pass. Like a cold.”

Opal smiled sympathetically. “Well, I certainly can’t tell you what you feel.” She regarded Asami pensively. “Has she forgiven you?”

Asami shrugged and turned her gaze to the view outside the window. A kid on a skateboard caught her attention briefly. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

“She will.” At Asami’s silence, she continued. “Are you looking forward to Taylor’s party?”

The change in topic caught Asami by surprise, but she welcomed it all the same. “It should be interesting,” she said. “Do you think Kuvira will be there?”

Opal looked amused. “And by that do you mean, do I think Korra will be there?”

Asami closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against the seat. “This is so bad.”

***

“This is so good!” Kuvira held out the now-empty glass in her hand. “What is this?”

Adam chuckled and refilled the glass. “It’s a family secret. My father likes coming up with new drinks and this was his big hit. I’m the only other person who knows the recipe.”

Korra sipped the green liquid and wrinkled her nose at the initial bitterness. “Tastes like... apples and... something else.”

“Kiwi!” Kuvira blurted. “Is there kiwi in this?”

“I’m not telling,” Adam said, laughing. “I’ll pass the recipe on to my children. Maybe.”

Kuvira shook her head. “Korra, hurry up and marry this guy so you can start popping out some babies.”

Korra blushed. The alcohol – whatever it was – was going to her head. It didn’t help that she’d barely slept and that the only thing in her stomach besides Adam’s concoction was several handfuls of popcorn. She leaned forward on the couch to grab some more.

“Where’s that damn pizza? I’m starving.” Kuvira put her feet on the coffee table. “Should I start the movie?”

Adam settled back, his arm brushing against Korra’s. “What are we watching?”

“It’s Asami Sato marathon night,” Kuvira announced. “We shall begin with Silence Speaks.” Kuvira picked up the DVD box and read from the back. “’A young woman faces her deepest fears and ultimately finds true love in the most unexpected places.’”

Korra put her feet up, too. She didn’t know how she felt about the whole Asami Sato movie marathon thing. She was partly curious because she’d never actually watched any of Asami’s films, but she was also a bit apprehensive about it. What if she hated them? Or worse, what if she hated Asami in them?

“I haven’t seen this one,” Adam said. “I heard she was good in it, though.”

“There’s a lot of gratuitous nudity,” Kuvira said. “You’ll appreciate it.”

Adam laughed. “She is pretty hot.”

“She’s a good kisser, too.” Kuvira giggled. “God, I love that I can say that. It’s such a good ice breaker.”

Korra sighed quietly to herself. Lots of things were wrong with this picture and she didn’t know quite where to start. Gratuitous nudity? Did she really want to see Asami naked?

Wouldn’t that be incredibly awkward? And did Kuvira have to keep mentioning the fact that she’d kissed Asami?

The movie started and Korra forced herself to focus on something other than Adam sliding progressively closer to her. On the screen, Asami Sato was in the shower and the camera was taking its sweet time trailing down her body. Korra looked away. She felt uncomfortable suddenly and had no idea what to do about it. Her gaze wandered back to the screen. A man had stepped into the shower. “Ew,” she found herself saying.

“I know. He’s like twice her age. But he’s got sex appeal.”

Adam snorted.

Korra cringed as the ugly man kissed Asami. “Tell me that’s not her true love?”

“No, her true love is young and really hot. She’s just using this guy.”

A knock at the door interrupted the make-out session on the screen, and Korra was secretly grateful.

“Pizza!” Kuvira jumped up to get the door.

Adam leaned over. “Did she really kiss Asami Sato?” he whispered.

“So she says,” Korra said. “I wasn’t there.”

Adam laughed. “She’s probably making it up.”

Korra didn’t say anything to the contrary. The subject made her head spin and the last thing she wanted was to discuss it further.

Kuvira returned with a couple of pizza boxes. “Let me get some plates.”

Adam jumped to his feet. “Let me help you.”

Korra considered going to help but she felt too exhausted to move; exhausted and partly drunk. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. It was half past seven and she had no idea how long this little gathering was supposed to last. She’d meant to call Asami just to say hi; just to keep the communication lines open so things wouldn’t get awkward between them. But she hadn’t come up with anything to say and then Adam had arrived.

Now, however, she felt anxious. She glanced into the kitchen to verify that Kuvira and Adam were still getting things together, and flipped open her phone. A quick text message. That was casual enough. Sleep well? she spelled out. She heard footsteps approaching and sent off the message just in time to accept a plate from Adam. “Thanks.” She smiled at him.

He sat down beside her again and served up the slices. The movie resumed. And a minute or two later, her phone vibrated. Korra glanced at it and smiled to herself. She felt better suddenly, knowing that she had a message from Asami. Asami and not Sami. It was going to take a while to get used the distinction.

On the TV screen, Asami’s character was driving a red convertible. Her dark hair was hidden beneath a pink bandana.

Korra picked up the slice of pizza and took a bite, determined to pay attention. But her gaze kept drifting to the phone. Curiosity eventually won. She read the reply: I did. Thank you. I had a dream that a giant penguin had stolen my flying cantaloupe. What do you think that means?

Korra grinned and put the phone away. She regretted that she couldn’t call Asami just then.

But maybe later. Later, when Adam had gone. She glanced at him, his profile illuminated by the moving lights on the screen. She liked him. She liked his easy smile. She liked the peacefulness he radiated. Boring might not have been the best way to describe him, she decided. Uncomplicated, maybe. Uncomplicated sounded incredibly appealing to her suddenly.

He caught her looking and she glanced away, embarrassed. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, but she wasn’t altogether sure she knew what that was anymore.

***

Asami stared at the phone while trying very hard to look like she wasn’t staring. She’d put it on the table just in case it rang. A text message from Korra didn’t necessarily signal an imminent phone call, but there was always the chance for more messages, and Asami didn’t want to miss any of those either. But she tore her gaze away from the silent phone, not wanting to seem desperate.

The restaurant was noisy, but the food came well recommended and that was all that mattered. Asami had wanted to dine out for a change. She’d been meaning to talk to Opal and this seemed like a better setting than her kitchen or the limo. Her gaze settled on Opal. “Can we talk seriously for a moment?”

Her assistant looked startled. “Of course.”

At Opal’s worried glance, Asami continued. “How much longer do you think you’ll want to be working for me?” The question made Opal flinch, and Asami felt guilty for her bluntness, but she said nothing to soften it. This was important.

The question clearly caught Opal off-guard and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I didn’t have any plans to not be working for you in the near future,” she said. “Why? Are you firing me?”

“I would never fire you,” Asami said seriously. “I’m asking because I know you have other projects on the side. I don’t know at what point they’ll become the center of your attention.”

Opal sighed and picked up her drink. “I have no answer for you, Asami. I’m working with Bolin on a screenplay but that’s a long way from being anything substantial. I’ve got nothing else going on besides that.”

Asami nodded. “Okay, then I’ve got a proposition for you.” Opal looked at her expectantly and Asami continued. “I want you to be my manager.”

The look on Opal’s face was priceless and Asami almost considered picking up her cell phone and taking a picture. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I trust you,” Asami said simply. “I trust your advice. I trust your opinions. I trust your instincts. I trust you not to use me or screw me over for your own professional gain.” At Opal’s silence, she added, “Let’s say, ten percent of anything I make?”

Opal looked stunned. She shook her head. “Asami...”

“Okay, fifteen.”

“You’re serious about this.”

“Completely.” 

“Who’s going to be your assistant then?”

Asami shrugged. “I’ll find someone. Is that a yes?”

Opal looked around the restaurant before turning her attention back to Asami. “Why now?”

“Because I’m distracted,” Asami said. “I need someone to keep me focused. I need someone who’ll care about my career on days when I don’t. I need someone who’ll care about me on days when I don’t. I don’t trust that I know what’s best for me anymore. But I trust that you would.”

Opal looked conflicted. “I don’t know if I can make that switch, Asami. From being the person that picks up your dry-cleaning to being the person in charge of guiding your career. That’s a huge leap.” She frowned, looking at nothing in particular. “Have you talked to Bolin about this? Wouldn’t he be a better candidate for the job?”

“Bolin’s more distracted than I am,” Asami said good-naturedly. “And you do far more than just pick up my dry-cleaning, Opal. I wouldn’t be offering you this if I didn’t think you were right for it.” She leaned back in her chair. “You don’t have to answer right away.”

The wheels were turning in Opal’s head and she sighed. “When would you want me to start?”

“The second you say yes.”

Opal bit her lip. “Fifteen percent?”

Asami smiled. “Is that a yes?”

“Lin’s going to throw a fit,” Opal said thoughtfully. “She loves that you don’t have a manager.”

“Opal...”

Opal met Asami’s gaze. “It’s a yes.”

***

Halfway through the second movie Kuvira had mysteriously wandered off to her room, conveniently leaving Korra and Adam alone. The movie played on, and they sat through the rest of it without saying much of anything to each other. Korra knew Kuvira had left on purpose. In fact, Korra had expected it, but it didn’t make it any less annoying.

The credits rolled and Korra tried to think of something to say.

“What did you think?”

It was Adam who broke the silence and Korra looked at him. What did she think? Of the movie? The movie had been fine. And Asami had been more than fine in it; she’d bordered on distracting, in fact. Shower scenes, pool scenes, love scenes. Korra had given up averting her gaze. Gorgeous people begged to be looked at, and Asami Sato was certainly gorgeous. “It was good,” she said casually. Adam had also been distracting her; with his proximity, with his looks, with his smile, with the seemingly accidental touches she’d pretended not to notice.

“She’s not coming back out, is she?”

Korra glanced briefly at Kuvira’s door. “No, I doubt it. She doesn’t do subtle.”

Adam chuckled, but he sounded nervous, which in turn made Korra feel nervous. “Well, um, I guess I should get going. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Oh,” Korra said, surprised. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Conversation, maybe. “Okay.” She felt awkward, which was annoying because she’d never felt awkward with Adam before. Not like this.

They both stood and made their way to the door. Adam slipped on his jacket and put his hands in the pockets.

“Thanks for coming,” Korra said lamely.

“Oh, yeah, my pleasure,” he said. “It was fun.” He was stalling. He looked at her for a long moment before shifting his gaze. “Okay, um, I know you said you weren’t looking for anything serious or even semi-serious, but I thought maybe... ah...” The floor seemed very fascinating to him suddenly. “I thought maybe... possibly... you’d consider going out with me sometime.”

Korra felt something that closely approximated relief, but that bordered on something else. She had no word for whatever else it could be, so she smiled and said, “Okay, yeah.”

Adam smiled, brighter than Korra had ever seen. “Really? Great! I... um... we can go to a museum?”

“Sure,” Korra said.

“Saturday?”

Korra was about to say yes, but she remembered the party. The party she’d had no intention on attending until just that moment. A date with Adam was the perfect excuse to get out of going. But. “Actually, I have plans for Saturday.” At his disappointed look she quickly added, “With Kuvira. I promised I’d go with her to a party... but that wouldn’t be until the evening anyway. So, we can do lunch. If that’s okay?”

The smile was back. “Lunch. Perfect.”

“Okay,” she said in that way people had of making the word sound official.

“Okay,” he said, opening the door. “See you Saturday.”

***

The phone rang long after Asami had given up hoping that it would. She muted the television and grabbed the vibrating object off the nightstand. Her heart started pounding faster as she answered, “Hey.”

“So, what color was the flying cantaloupe?”

Asami smiled and shut the TV off altogether. “It was a normal, cantaloupe color.”

“Was it sliced?”

Asami thought back to her dream, trying to recall the details. “I’m pretty sure it was whole.”

“Hmm, well Freud would probably say it all ties into sex somehow.”

“Well, I do find giant penguins incredibly attractive.”

Korra laughed.

“So, how was your day?” Asami asked, not wanting their conversation to fall into silence. Had it only been hours since they’d last spoken? It felt like weeks.

“My day? Well, I slept about three hours and then I woke up to really loud music coming from upstairs... or maybe next door... it was hard to tell. And then I took a shower. And then... did you really want a play-by-play?”

Asami first thought Korra meant a play-by-play of the shower and her mind flew to all sorts of inappropriate places. But then she realized that’s not what Korra had meant. “Yes,” she said, forcing her thoughts out of the gutter. “I like hearing about your day.”

“Okay, well then I ate leftover Chinese food, and then I... wow, I’m boring myself. Okay, I’ll just go ahead and fast forward to more interesting events: I got a date.”

Asami frowned. “With the Chinese food?” Korra laughed again and Asami smiled at the sound. But she had a feeling that she wasn’t going to like the real answer to the question.

“With Adam.”

Adam. Right. Korra hadn’t mentioned him in a while and Asami had assumed that meant he was long gone. But then, why would he be? “Well, congrats,” she said, feigning excitement. She could play this role. “How did that happen?”

“Well, Kuvira invited him over to watch movies and... I don’t know. I just kind of felt like maybe I’d been stupid not to go out with him before. I mean, I get that I was trying to get over the whole thing with Mako, so I guess it makes sense. But who knows, maybe I’m finally over it now. Maybe I’m getting to a point where I’m ready to start dating again. So when he asked me, I said yes.”

It sounded so simple. Why couldn’t it be that simple for her?

Before Asami could come up with an appropriate response, Korra said, “So, is this what we’re doing?”

“Is what what we’re doing?”

“Continuing on as though nothing’s changed,” Korra said softly.

The change in tone made Asami swallow. “That’s up to you.”

There was a moment of silence. In the background, Asami heard music. It sounded like Damien Rice but maybe it wasn’t. “It’s really easy to talk to you like this,” Korra said. “You sound like Sami and so it’s really easy to think that it’s her and not you. Even though I know you’re the same person.” She paused again. “It’s really weird. This whole thing.”

“I’m sure...” Asami bit her lip, wishing she could come up with something to say that would make things better. But this wasn’t the sort of situation in which words meant anything.

“I’m okay with the continuing on as though nothing’s changed thing...” Korra said after a while. “We can give it a try, anyway.”

“Okay,” Asami said, not wanting to feel relieved or excited or anything that might be construed as a positive emotion. Not yet. “So you said this morning that you had more questions.”

“I do,” Korra said. “But um... are you free tomorrow? Or is that something I should run by Opal? Actually, should I even be calling you directly?”

“Yes, to the first question. No to the second. Yes to the third.”

“Hang on, I don’t even remember what I just asked you,” Korra said, laughing. “Okay, so do you mind if I stop by tomorrow?”

Asami smiled at the question. “Not at all.”

“Then I will.”

The conversation was coming to an end, Asami realized. She searched for something to say that would keep it going. But nothing came to mind. “You must be exhausted,” she said, knowing that wouldn’t help matters any.

“I should be,” Korra said. “Mostly I just feel kind of... drunk.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Adam brought over this weird drink his father came up with. I forget what he called it. Anyway, I had a little too much of it, I think. My mind’s a little... fuzzy.”

Adam. Why did that name make Asami’s skin crawl? “If it makes you feel any better, you don’t sound... fuzzy.”

Korra giggled. “Sorry. I don’t even know why that struck me as funny. I should go to bed. I need sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Asami liked the sound of those words coming from Korra. “Until tomorrow.”

***

Until tomorrow. The words echoed in Korra’s mind as she moved around her room, getting ready for bed. In the bathroom, her conversation with Asami played in her head as she brushed her teeth. Giant penguins. She grinned and narrowly avoided getting toothpaste on her shirt.

“Ooh, someone’s in a good mood.” Kuvira was standing in the doorway, smiling brightly. “Please tell me Adam’s currently tied to your bed...”

Korra spit out the toothpaste in her mouth in an attempt not to choke on it. She rinsed her mouth and stared at Kuvira. “He’s chained to my sex swing, actually,” she deadpanned, and Kuvira laughed. “Very subtle move, by the way, leaving us alone like that.”

“Oh you noticed that, did you?”

“The fact that one moment you were there and the next you weren’t? Yeah! Hard to miss.”

Kuvira only smiled. “I hoped the two of you would be too blinded by love to miss little ol’ me. By the second movie he was sitting so close to you he was practically on your lap. And you didn’t seem to be minding all that much.”

Korra bit her lip. “He asked me out.”

“Please tell me you said yes.”

“I said yes.”

Kuvira clapped her hands. “Yes! I should win an award for my match-making skills. Now get out of the bathroom. I really have to pee.”

Korra laughed and headed back to her room. Though the date with Adam was present in her thoughts, it was Asami Korra was thinking about as she crawled into bed. She wasn’t sure why she’d forgiven the actress, other than she’d wanted to. She didn’t know why Asami seemed to want to be her friend, but she knew the thought of it made her happy.

She turned out the light and listened to the sound of the sink in the bathroom. She half expected Kuvira to burst in and demand more details about the upcoming date, but the bathroom door opened and then a moment later, she heard Kuvira’s bedroom door close.

Korra relaxed into the covers, and shivered. She was tempted to pick up the phone again and send Asami a text message. Something pointless and unnecessary like, “Good night,” but she decided that was silly.

Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing. But there was always something there: the memory of Adam’s arm brushing against hers every time he’d moved; the image of Asami Sato’s body as she’d lifted herself out of a pool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby steps. 
> 
> Also, sorry if I have any typos. I sometimes miss things when converting the chapters. Just lmk if you find any mistakes, I’ll definitely fix them :)


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“So, Lin threatened to fly to New York just to talk you out of making me your manager.”

Asami switched the phone to her other ear and used her free hand to scroll down the website page. Couches. She was standing in her kitchen, looking at potential couches because the lack of furniture was starting to bug her. “That was sweet of her. What’d you tell her?”

“I asked her if she’d ever met you. When has anyone ever talked you out of anything?”

Asami smiled. “Hey what do you think of this couch?” She emailed the link. “I like that sandy color.”

Opal sighed in her ear. “Asami, are you sure about this?”

“Well, no. That’s why I asked for your opinion.”

“I’m talking about this whole manager thing. I printed a list of management agencies that would love to represent you. Wouldn’t you like to give one of those a shot? And ooh, nice couch. I wonder if I could fit that in my apartment?”

“Oh sure, steal my couch.” Asami moved on to a different website. “Stop asking me if I’m sure about the manager thing and start telling me what I should do about this ad campaign they want me for. Did Lin fill you in?”

There was a deep breath from the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it. I think you should do it, and not just because I think you’d look hot in a tie, though you would, but because the photos will be coming out around the time Summer’s Dance will be generating a lot of buzz. It’ll be great publicity for you, and as an added bonus, I think you’ll win over any reluctant lesbian fans.”

“Because I’m in a tie?”

“Hey, never doubt the seductive powers of hot women in ties,” Opal said wisely.

“You know I’m trying hard not to be a lesbian poster girl, right?”

“Yes, but I think it’s stupid.” Opal laughed. “Hey, I get to say things like that to you now. Cool.”

“Yay,” Asami said unenthusiastically.

“Look, I really think the smartest thing you can do right now is embrace the gay and lesbian community. The gay press is already showing interest in the film. And if you shy away from them they’ll question why. If you embrace them they’ll call you an ally. And no one seems to be questioning your sexuality anyway, even with those pictures of Taylor getting into that limo with you. People were far more interested in you and that other guy.”

Asami let Opal’s words sink in.

“But back to the point, you won’t be the only actress in the ad campaign,” Opal continued. “And half the proceeds go to charity. It’s a win-win.”

Asami smiled softly. “Okay,” she said. “Let Lin know I’m in for the photo shoot.” She emailed another link. “What do you think of that one?”

There was silence, followed by the sound of clicking. “I think... hang on, it’s loading really slowly for some reason.” A laugh. “Wow, that has to be the ugliest couch ever made.”

Asami giggled. “Looks like a reject from the Beetlejuice furniture collect—“ The sudden knock at the door interrupted the rest of her sentence. “I think Korra is here.”

“Okay, then. Go get her, Tiger.”

***

Korra took a breath and knocked. She listened for sounds, tell-tale signs of what she might have interrupted. But the apartment at the other side of the door was silent, and so she waited for whatever came next.

The trip to Asami’s apartment had been uneventful and her morning equally so. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep. She’d kept herself awake with thoughts she shouldn’t be having and images that shouldn’t have lingered. She wanted to believe that it was all normal. That befriending a famous movie and television star was bound to elicit... what? Attraction? Is that what she’d felt for the woman on the screen? Confusion felt like a more accurate word.

The lock clicked open, and Korra held her breath as the door opened. Asami appeared in the doorway seconds later. Images from the films flashed briefly through Korra’s mind at the sight of the actress, and she pushed them away, replacing them with more appropriate versions.

Asami was dressed in jeans and a red-sleeved baseball tee; an outfit that begged to be looked at only when worn by someone like Asami Sato.

“Hey,” Asami said, and smiled. Korra liked this smile. She’d seen it once or twice before, but never on film. It was, Korra suspected, the kind of smile Asami reserved for certain people.

That she was one of them gave Korra an odd sense of confidence.

Korra stepped into the apartment, reaching instantly for the buttons on her coat. Asami’s apartment was kept at tropical island temperatures and Korra could almost envision the Earth’s resources struggling to keep up. “At what temperature do you keep your thermostat?” she asked.

“At a very normal, human temperature,” Asami said as she closed the door.

“Really? That’s funny because I just ran into Satan in the elevator and he was like, ‘Wow, I just came from Asami Sato’s apartment and boy was it hot in there.’”

Asami narrowed her eyes. “I was going to say that I was glad you were here, but now I’m not so sure.”

Korra grinned, somewhat smugly, and handed her coat to Asami, and then her scarf. “Why are you glad I’m here?”

“Because I need your help.”

Korra watched the actress as she headed up the stairs. “It doesn’t involve any heavy lifting, does it? If it does, I just remembered I have to be somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” Asami paused at the top of the stairs and glanced down. “Where?”

“Somewhere. Important. Where the lifting of things is not only unnecessary but also forbidden.”

Asami disappeared out of view. She reappeared moments later and started down the stairs. “That sounds entirely like a place you just made up. Thankfully, no heavy lifting is necessary.”

“Happy to help, then,” Korra said and followed Asami into the kitchen.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I have no furniture,” Asami said.

Korra glanced around the empty space. “Really? Somehow that escaped my notice.”

“Sarcasm both noted and appreciated. So, I’m starting with the couch and I’ve narrowed it down to a few choices...”

Korra frowned at the laptop on the kitchen counter. “Wait, are you shopping online?” She was unable to keep the disapproval from her tone.

Asami glanced at her, eyebrow raised in question. “Yes?”

“But you mean to go out and purchase the couch in person,” Korra said hopefully.

“No?”

Korra sighed at the actress and walked over to look at the computer. On the screen was a sand-color couch with an astounding number of digits after the dollar sign. “Holy prices, Batman, did they import this couch from Mars?”

“Pluto, actually,” Asami said. “It’s nice, though, isn’t it?”

“Not sure, I’ve never been to Pluto,” Korra teased. “I think you’re crazy to spend this much on a couch you’ve never sat on. How do you know it’s comfortable?” She wanted to argue further that a couch was meant to be purchased in person so that one could compare the different levels of comfort, but she was distracted by Asami’s proximity. She was distracted by her scent. What was it today? Apples? Korra swallowed nervously but didn’t move, even when Asami stepped closer to use the touchpad.

“It’s got really good reviews,” Asami said as she scrolled down the page. “This person says it’s the most comfortable couch they’ve ever sat on.”

Apples, Korra decided. She should not be noticing these things, she also decided. Her heart should not be beating wildly. And she definitely should not be wondering how it would feel to move even closer. It was clear that at some point in the past twenty-four hours her mind had short-circuited, turning her into a perv. A perv with lesbian tendencies. This was not at all alarming, no. Korra was relieved when Asami moved away. “You trust the opinion of a person named ‘Spankybottoms928’?” Korra managed.

“An unfortunate name, but he’s got only his parents to blame,” Asami answered easily. “Is it really that hot in here? You’re sweating. Can I get you a drink?”

She was indeed sweating, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “Water would be wonderful,” Korra said, and was grateful when Asami handed her a cold bottle of Evian. Evian. Of course. “Thank you.”

“Maybe sand is too bland a color,” Asami said thoughtfully. “I was looking at a red one. But I might be too boring a person to have a red couch.”

Boring was not quite the word Korra would use to describe Asami Sato. “Do you really want my opinion?”

“Absolutely.”

“I think you should go out there and try couches until you fall in love.”

Asami looked at her curiously. “Fall in love with...?”

“A couch,” Korra said.

“I think you’ve misunderstood the term ‘lesbian.’”

Korra laughed, shaking her head. “I’m serious. You’ll know the one when you sit on her.”

Asami burst out laughing.

“It!” Korra said quickly, blushing furiously. “I meant, it.”

***

Spending time with Korra, Asami found, was both addictive and unbearable. Standing beside her only made Asami want to stand closer. She’d had to move away, in the end. She’d had to put distance between them. She had to keep herself from staring, from smiling too much.

Asami didn’t know what the key to not falling in love was. She didn’t know at what point she’d lost control; at what point her feelings had taken over. If only she could step aside from her emotions; hang them on a coat rack and put them back on later, when Korra wasn’t around, then, maybe, denial would come easier.

Why wasn’t friendship enough?

“God,” Korra said, and laughed. “So, here’s where you change the subject to spare me any further embarrassment...”

Asami was smiling, but something inside her ached. “I’m not sure if there’s any topic that’s safe with you now,” she teased, but complied. “So you said you had questions...?”

“Oh.” Korra looked uncomfortable still. Her gaze dropped. “They’re not really questions.” She shrugged and picked up the bottle of water again. She started playing with the cap. “It’s just me being nosy, really.”

What sorts of things did Korra wonder about? The personal lives of actors Asami knew, maybe? The behind the scenes gossip of movies she’d done? Korra didn’t strike her as the type of person that cared about such things, but Asami didn’t know Korra well enough to be sure of that. “Ask away.”

Korra smiled shyly. “Okay. So, ‘Saucy’... it’s the film director from your new movie, isn’t it?”

Asami hesitated briefly at the question. This is what Korra wondered about? “Taylor, yes,” she said finally. “How did you guess?”

“Well, you told me her name before,” Korra said. “But I’d forgotten it.” She looked embarrassed again. “If I tell you how I guessed it you’re going to think I was stalking you.”

Asami smiled at Korra’s tone; at the way Korra’s nose wrinkled when she said things she was shy about. “I see,” Asami said, curious now about what Korra had found, and how.

“Okay, see, it was killing me that I couldn’t remember her name. But then I remembered you went out on a date with her back in December. So really it was just a matter of... umm...”

“Stalking me online?”

Korra laughed. “It sounds so wrong when you say it like that!” She shook her head. “I’m on a roll with embarrassing myself today. So, are you two dating? You never told me.”

Asami found it interesting that Korra cared so much about her personal life. At least she wasn’t uncomfortable with it. That was something. “We admitted our mutual attraction to one another and decided to revisit all of that after the film was done shooting.”

“How mature of you.”

“Yes, I thought so,” Asami stated proudly. But she shrugged. “I don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

“Because of the piece of wood sticking out of her forehead?”

Asami laughed, having forgotten that particular image. “Yes, exactly.” She didn’t know what else to say on the subject. She couldn’t very well say that she didn’t think anything would happen with Taylor because Asami was too busy fighting her feelings for someone else. The only thing left to do was change the subject. “How about you? You have a date tomorrow. Are you excited?” Asami knew the topic bordered on masochistic, but it seemed like the right thing to ask.

Korra looked momentarily pensive. “I don’t know that ‘excited’ is the word. I’m a little nervous and a little curious to see what comes out of it. I told Tara, my sister, that I thought Adam was a little boring. But I think he’s just... nice. Maybe, after Mako, I just don’t know how to recognize nice.”

“Is that what you want? Someone who’s nice?”

“Who knows,” Korra said. “Nobody is just one thing.”

“This is starting to sound like our emails,” Asami said, aiming for levity.

Korra smiled. “I liked our emails.”

“Me too.” Asami looked around the apartment, feeling the lull in the conversation approaching. She searched for something to say; something that might keep her heart from shriveling at the thought of Korra with someone else. She thought of what Korra had said about the couches. “Do you want to go out somewhere?”

Korra looked surprised. “Uh, sure. Where do you want to go?”

“To a store, maybe. And if there happens to be couches there, well, all the better.”

“You want me to go couch shopping with you?”

“I’ll buy you dinner for your troubles.”

“Bribing me with food,” Korra said, shaking her head. Without missing a beat, “Of course that works. Let’s go.”

***

“Oh look,” Asami said suddenly. “It’s Harrison Ford!”

Korra immediately slid over from her side of the limo, not caring that she was practically on top of Asami. “Where?” she demanded, looking frantically through the dark-tinted windows at the people on the sidewalk.

Asami pointed, and Korra continued her search until she realized that Asami was pointing at a balding black man playing a violin. “You suck!” she said, and Asami laughed. “I was really excited for a second.” Korra fell back against the plush leather seats and pouted. Her leg brushed against Asami’s as she moved, and Korra grew irritated with herself for noticing.

“Are you saying that being in the company of one movie star isn’t enough for you?”

“Harrison Ford is more than a movie star; he’s a legend.”

Asami rolled her eyes, but smiled. She looked away, her gaze back on the world beyond the window, and Korra watched her silently before looking elsewhere. She wanted to ask what Asami was thinking, but it was the sort of inappropriate curiosity she would have to keep to herself.

Korra glanced outside and wondered how she’d come to be sitting in a limousine next to Asami Sato. The actress had bought her artwork and now here Korra was, sitting beside her, on their way to buy a couch.

“How do you feel about women in ties?” Asami asked suddenly, and Korra turned to look at her.

“In what sense?”

“They want me to do an ad campaign for ties,” Asami said.

“Is that all you’ll be wearing?” Korra meant to be teasing, but her heart sped up at the thought.

Asami looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, actually.”

Korra turned in her seat so she could look at Asami without hurting her neck. “It doesn’t bother you? Being naked in front of the world?”

“No,” Asami said simply. “People are so distracted by the outside it keeps them from looking in.”

Korra frowned slightly. Is that what Asami wanted? To be seen only on the surface? “What if you dated someone and they didn’t want you to do nude shots?”

“Then I wouldn’t.” Asami glanced at her. “Would it bother you?”

“If I were dating you?” And the question made her heart speed up again.

“Not me necessarily. Harrison Ford, for example.”

Korra laughed at the thought of herself with Harrison Ford. She liked him as an actor but anything more seemed too ridiculous to contemplate. “I guess,” she said anyway. “I can’t imagine it, being with someone in the public eye.”

Asami looked away and Korra wondered if she’d said something wrong.

“Hey, is that a furniture store?” Asami asked.

Korra let it go, the thought that she’d somehow offended Asami; the presumption that Asami Sato might care what Korra thought. “Looks like it,” she said. “Ready to find your true love?”

“Yes, let’s go sit on her.”

Asami giggled as Korra slapped her arm.

***

It was warm inside the store and Asami began to uncoil the scarf around her neck as she looked around. She was pleased by the lack of attention thrown her way as she walked between the displays of chairs and tables. Korra was ahead of her, already moving toward the section with the couches, and Asami watched her until she felt it prudent to look away.

Here they were, Asami thought, at a furniture store; together. It didn’t get stranger than that.

A salesman glanced Asami’s way, and she quickly turned her back to him. It was only a matter of time before someone approached her and she wished to delay the inevitable interaction for as long as possible. It was incredibly nice, this moment; standing between a dark wood dining set and a loveseat, feeling somewhat normal.

Asami caught up to Korra moments later. The artist was sitting on a floral print sofa, looking pensively up at the ceiling. Asami glanced up to see if there was something exciting up there, but no, it was simply Korra’s way of measuring comfort.

“Not only is it ugly,” Korra said, “but it’s not comfortable at all.” She stood and moved on to something else. “Did you say you wanted something sand-colored?”

“I said I liked the couch in the picture,” Asami said, “which just happened to be sand-colored.”

Korra moved from couch to couch, shaking her head. “These are terrible. See? This is why you have to try them out.”

Asami plopped down beside Korra. She had no idea what Korra was going on about. “This couch is perfectly comfortable.”

“Are you kidding? It’s lumpy.”

“It’s not lumpy.”

“Right here, it’s lumpy.” Korra moved over so Asami could take her spot.

Asami shook her head and slid to the side. “You’re insane.”

“There’s obviously something wrong with your butt.”

Asami frowned at this. “There’s nothing wrong with my butt! Perhaps it’s your butt that’s lumpy, ever think of that?”

Korra narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call my butt ‘lumpy?’”

“Oh, hey,” Asami said, standing, “how about that couch over there.” She moved in the direction of a random piece of furniture in the hopes that Korra would forget to kill her by the time she caught up.

A man, wearing what had to be the world’s most glaring toupee, crossed in front of Asami and grinned widely. “What an honor,” he said to her. “What an honor to have you here, Ms. Sato.”

Asami inwardly sighed but outwardly smiled. “Hello,” she said, because she wasn’t quite sure what else to say. Korra was still sitting where Asami had left her, and Asami pointed in her direction. “This is my personal couch shopper, Korra.”

Korra looked as if Asami had suddenly grown five heads.

“It’s a pleasure,” the man was saying, practically bouncing over to shake Korra’s hand. “Please, what can I help you find? Whatever you’re looking for, I’m sure we’ve got it.”

“We’re just... uh, looking around,” Korra said.

“Oh, sure, sure,” the man said, nodding. “Well, my name is Christopher. I’ll be right over there. Just holler the second you need anything.” He grinned at Asami. “Such an honor.”

He left them alone, thankfully, and Asami glanced at Korra to find her glaring up at her.

“Personal couch shopper?”

Asami gave her most innocent smile.

“You’ve never made a college student angry before, have you?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“It’s not a pretty sight, I must warn you.”

“I doubt that very much,” Asami said before she could stop herself. She looked into Korra’s beautiful blue eyes and smiled. “You don’t have a lumpy butt.”

“Thank you,” Korra said, sounding pleased. But there was something else, Asami noticed; something that looked like a blush.

***

Korra was pleased with their final selection. After sampling practically every piece of furniture in the store, there had been a unanimous decision. It was odd, considering the fact that Asami’s butt was clearly defective when it came to recognizing comfort, that they had, in the end, loved exactly the same one.

The buildings rolled past the window of the limo, and Korra stared out at the lights and the silhouettes of people strolling down the sidewalks. She felt strangely disconnected from them at that moment, in a way she wasn’t used to. The entire world felt a million miles away; as if there, within the confines of that vehicle, an entirely different dimension existed.

A dimension in which street artists and famous movie stars went shopping for couches together.

“Sorry about that,” Asami said, and Korra glanced at her to find that the actress was finally off the phone.

“No worries, I get that you’re popular.”

“So, I promised you dinner...”

Dinner. Korra had forgotten about that. “I might have to take a rain check,” she said regretfully. “I have a ton of homework that I should probably get a jump start on.” It sounded like a lame excuse, despite the fact that it was the truth. She hoped Asami wouldn’t think she was lying.

Asami’s face betrayed nothing; neither relief nor disappointment. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll drop you off.”

Korra started to protest, but Asami was already lowering the divider and telling the driver where to go. “How do you know my address?”

“Because I am wise beyond my years,” Asami said simply.

“Oh, sure,” Korra said, “you can’t even tell a lumpy couch from a non-lumpy couch.” It was weird, she thought, that she should feel comfortable teasing Asami Sato this way. Only it didn’t feel weird, which was, maybe, the weird part about it. But she liked seeing Asami smile. More than anything, she liked making Asami smile.

“My wisdom, obviously, does not extend to my butt.”

“I see,” Korra said, and it was she who smiled. She wanted to change her mind about dinner; to ignore her pressing responsibilities and remain in Asami’s company for as long as possible. But it worried her that she didn’t want to part ways. It didn’t seem quite right; quite the appropriate reaction to a day spent shopping.

“So, do you know what you and Adam are doing tomorrow?”

The question came out of left field, but Korra was grateful for the distraction. Her thoughts were beginning to worry her. “Not sure,” she said. “He said something about a museum.”

“And would you consider that to be your ideal date?”

“Is there such a thing?”

“Isn’t there?”

“Maybe.” Korra thought about the question, trying to conjure up a vision of the ‘ideal date.’ Nothing sprung to mind, though today had been fun. Not that this had been a date. “I think it’s more about the person you’re with.”

“Okay,” Asami said slowly. “So then is Adam the ideal person you’d want to go to a museum with?”

Korra laughed at the question. “I don’t know. He might be.” She thought of Adam and his messy hair and his pretty brown eyes. She pictured him at her side as they strolled through the Met. It sounded fine; not ideal, but fine. But what more was there to a relationship besides good company? “What about you? Did you have fun on your date with Saucy? Was it ‘ideal?’”

“I did have fun.”

“But?”

“But we agreed not to take things further until after filming.”

“Right, you said that,” Korra said, but felt there was more to it than that. “And you didn’t even kiss?”

There was a moment’s hesitation on Asami’s part, and Korra worried that perhaps she’d crossed the line. “No, we didn’t,” Asami said, sounding more embarrassed than anything else.

“I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.”

“I started it,” Asami said, and smiled. “Besides, you can ask me anything.”

Korra let the statement hang in the air between them. She liked the sound of it, even if she didn’t altogether believe that it was true. She watched the shadows and the lights dance across the black leather of the seats as she thought of a question she didn’t quite know how to ask.

“What?” Asami said suddenly, and Korra glanced up to see that Asami was looking at her. “You look like you want to say something.”

Korra hated being transparent. She shook her head as if to dismiss the subject. “It’s nothing.”

“And by ‘nothing’ you mean... something you’re too shy to say?”

“Are you a mind reader?” Korra narrowed her eyes at Asami.

“Oh did I forget to mention that? Yes. In fact, I come from a very long line of fortune tellers and mind readers.”

“Right.”

Asami frowned. “I can prove it. Close your eyes and think of a shape.”

Korra complied if only because doing so meant that they were no longer talking about her.

She thought of a circle; a big, green, perfect circle, and it was so vivid in her mind that a part of her almost expected Asami to guess correctly.

“You’re thinking of... an orange triangle.”

Korra opened her eyes and laughed. “Fraud!”

“What was it?”

“A green circle!” Korra grinned as she said it, a part of her relieved that Asami couldn’t read minds after all; ridiculous as the notion was to begin with.

“I was close!”

“How is that even remotely close?”

“It was close in that it wasn’t. So, what were you too shy to say before?”

“Oh, we’re back to that subject, are we?”

“We never truly left it.”

Korra thought of the question and then tried to find the right words with which to ask it. The best she could come up with was, “Is Kuvira the only girl you’ve ever kissed?” It sounded blunt even to her own ears and she almost winced. For the next few seconds she feared Asami’s reaction. She feared Asami’s interpretation, as if the question were laced with a hidden meaning; a truth she couldn’t see.

“In what sense?”

Korra was thrown by the question. “How many senses are there?”

“Six, I think.”

“Ha,” Korra said dryly. “What did you mean?”

“Well, technically, yes, she is the only girl I’ve kissed, but it was really my character kissing her, so in the sense of it being me, then no.”

Korra struggled to comprehend the difference. “So in terms of your body, yes, but in terms of your emotions, no?”

“Right.”

Either way, it didn’t make Korra feel any better. A knot rose in her stomach and settled there.

She didn’t like the thought of Asami kissing Kuvira. She didn’t know why she didn’t like it, but she didn’t like it. She caught a glimpse of familiar buildings through the window on Asami’s side. She had forgotten how drab her neighborhood looked; how utterly rundown and unkempt. What would Asami think? How could Asami ever comprehend a world without shiny surfaces and brand new things?

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, as the limousine rolled to a stop.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Asami said and smiled, somewhat shyly, it seemed to Korra.

“Did you want to come inside?” It was rude not to invite her, Korra knew, though the thought of Asami Sato in her apartment filled Korra with a sense of panic.

“I would, but you said you had to study, so perhaps another time?”

Korra nodded, feeling relieved. A different part of her wondered if Asami simply didn’t want to be seen in an area like this. She reached for the door handle. “Catch you later, then.”

And Asami smiled again. Korra would remember that moment for a long time: the flawless beauty of Asami Sato framed against the backdrop of Korra’s dark, broken world. She would want to paint it; to capture forever the impossibility of it all, the sheer unlikelihood of its occurrence. But she wouldn’t; she knew she wouldn’t. There were things best left inside like secrets; to be opened and examined when nobody could see.

She stepped outside, into the air that smelled dirty but familiar, and shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik I promised a 2 in 1 day, but idk if this is the best spot for one? If it’s okay with you guys I might postpone it. Plus there’s only a handful of chapters left. I can’t believe this fic is gonna be over soon.
> 
> On the bright side, Korra is developing ✨feelings✨


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“I used to come here when I was little,” Adam said conversationally, as they walked into the Guggenheim the following morning.

“Oh yeah?” Korra spoke, but her attention drifted, grabbed away by the museum itself. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe each time she passed through its doors. It was always the brightness she noticed first, the pouring down of light from above, and at times she imagined that this was what heaven must be like. She stared up at the spiral ramp as it curled ever upward, and smiled.

Adam was talking, and Korra suddenly remembered he was there. “...and then my mom would catch up with us eventually.”

He laughed and Korra took the cue and laughed too, feeling guilty that she’d missed the story.

She thought about apologizing and asking him to repeat it, but before she could make up her mind, the moment slipped away.

They headed for the ticket line and Korra tried to think of something to say that might spark some kind of conversation. In front of them in the line was a young couple dressed in matching outfits. Their daughter, or at least the child Korra took to be their daughter, stood to the side of them yelling, “zebra!” at the floor.

“Do you want kids?”

It took Korra several seconds to realize that Adam was addressing her. “What?”

“Not with me,” he said quickly. “I mean not... I mean, you know, in general.”

It wasn’t quite the topic Korra would have envisioned discussing while standing in line at the Guggenheim but she supposed there were worse places. “Uh,” she said, in an effort to stall. She didn’t have an answer to this question. “Maybe. One day. You know, in the far, far future.”

“That far away, huh? That’s interesting. I’ve always wanted kids; lots and lots of kids.”

“Like... twenty?”

“Okay, not that many,” he said with a laugh. “Like... six.”

“Six,” Korra repeated as the line moved forward. She glanced at the little girl in front of them who was now spinning in circles while chanting nonsense. She tried to picture six of those. “Well, good luck.” She smiled at him. “But what if your wife doesn’t want six kids?”

“Well, I’d make it clear before we got married.”

“Like on the first date?”

He laughed. “Maybe! Or maybe I’ll use it as a pick-up line from now on. You know, get it out there right away.”

“Let me know how that works out for you,” Korra said and laughed. The line moved forward again. “But what if you meet the perfect woman and she doesn’t want to have kids?”

“Then she wouldn’t be the perfect woman.”

Korra nodded thoughtfully at that. “I admire your conviction,” she said, though what she meant was that she envied it. She desperately wanted to be the sort of person that knew exactly what she wanted.

“Well, what about you? Isn’t there something you feel really strongly about?”

There were many things that Korra felt strongly about: the environment, animal rights, art. But she didn’t wish to dig deeper than that. Not now, nor there, standing in line at the Guggenheim, sandwiched between strangers. “Not really,” she said finally. “I mean, I’m sure there must be, but I’m not too picky.”

Their turn came eventually and Korra insisted on paying her way. She might not have known what she wanted, but she knew what she didn’t want: she didn’t want to fall into old patterns. She didn’t want anyone holding money over her head.

She glanced at Adam as they took their tickets; at the rumpled shirt and frayed jeans that almost matched her own. Being with Adam felt right in a theoretical kind of way; she liked the idea of it, of him. But her thoughts drifted as she and Adam walked together up the spiral ramp; drifted up and away from the present and toward the evening ahead.

***

Asami surveyed the contents of her closet hoping something would pop out and say, “Wear me tonight,” but her clothes were decidedly silent that afternoon. Behind her, Opal droned on about interviews and TV show guest spots, and Asami mumbled noncommittal replies in the hopes that these were enough to make the subjects pass.

“So, that’s a ‘yes’ then to the bubble gum commercial in Japan?”

Asami turned around. “What bubble gum commercial?”

“The one I’ve been talking about for at least five minutes,” Opal said with what sounded like impatience. “Come on, Asami, focus for a second here.”

“Sorry, it’s just...” Asami turned to the closet again so she wouldn’t have to face Opal. “It’s stupid.”

“Korra,” Opal said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

Asami didn’t answer. She didn’t want to confirm that yes, it was Korra; Korra, who at that very moment was out on a date with a guy.

“I still have no idea if she’s going to be at the party tonight,” Opal said gently.

Asami turned the light off in the closet and headed out of the room. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “And that was a ‘no’ to the commercial.”

Opal followed Asami out of the spare bedroom and out into the newly furnished living room. “Lin’s flying in on Wednesday. She’s got a new script for you she wants to deliver in person.”

“Great,” Asami said flatly, and flinched at the lack of emotion in her voice. She wanted to care. She wanted to be excited by the prospect of a new role. But she couldn’t muster anything akin to enthusiasm.

Opal walked past her and plopped down on the freshly delivered couch. “Did I mention how happy I am that you finally have proper seating in this place?”

Asami managed a smile at that. She took in the new addition to her apartment and her spirits lifted briefly at the sight. She, too, was happy. The black sectional sofa had arrived early that morning and fit perfectly in its allotted space. “It’s amazing what a little furniture can do,” she said, moving to take a seat next to Opal.

“Seriously,” Opal said, propping her feet up on the matching ottoman. “It’s starting to feel cozy, even.” She sighed contentedly. “Most comfortable couch ever, by the way; unlike that block of cement you have back in California masquerading as a couch.”

Asami’s thoughts shifted inevitably to Korra and she tried unsuccessfully to push thoughts of the artist away.

“So,” Opal said, “since you’ve got no attention span whatsoever for work-related matters, care to tell me what’s got you all bummed?”

“Nothing new,” Asami said with a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about Korra. She didn’t really want to talk about anything. “How’s Bolin?”

“I’m not sure actually,” Opal said, frowning. “He sent me a very perplexing text message earlier about sex toys.”

“Wow, that’s so not the response I was expecting.”

“He said he wanted to try something new for next time he saw me, and then his next message said something about getting stuck. And then he texted again to say not to worry; So, I have no idea what he did to his penis now.”

“And that’s the last time I ask after Bolin’s wellbeing.”

Opal smiled. “So... Korra?”

“It’s nothing. She’s on a date. And that’s fine. It’s good. It’s very good. It’s... great.”

Opal nodded. “Yeah you look thrilled.”

Asami slouched down on the couch, feeling defeated. “Why is it that your emotions never follow what your mind tells them to? I want to be happy for her.”

“But you’re jealous.”

“I have no right to be. But yeah, I guess that’s what this feeling is.”

Opal patted Asami’s hand. “I have no words of wisdom for you.”

“I just need filming to start. I need a distraction.”

“Ah, yes,” Opal said with a smile. “The film in which you get to make out with both Taylor and Korra’s best friend; that’s not bound to be at all confusing.”

“Shut up,” Asami said, frowning. “Shouldn’t you go call your boyfriend and make sure he’s still anatomically male?”

Opal giggled and took her phone out of her pocket. “Good one,” she said, dialing. “I think I’ll open with that.”

***

Kuvira was waiting in the hallway when Korra wandered into the apartment. She was dressed casually in a pink bathrobe with a matching towel wrapped around her head. “Tell me everything,” she demanded before the door had even closed. “And walk with me; I still haven’t picked an outfit for tonight.”

Korra complied, following Kuvira into her bedroom. “He wants six kids,” was the first thing she thought to say.

“Wow,” Kuvira said, her face wrinkling. “You guys move fast.”

Korra sat down on the edge of Kuvira’s bed. “Who tells someone that they want six kids on the first date?”

“Wait, he wanted six kids on your first date?”

“No, I mean, who tells someone that on the first date? And I wanted to be like, ‘Well tough luck. Ain’t gonna ever happen with me,’ but I don’t know! What if I do want six kids some day?”

“He wants exactly six kids? What if you accidentally get an extra one? Do you give it away?”

Korra let out a chuckle. “Maybe.”

Kuvira held up a dress and shook it at Korra. “Opinion.”

“It brings out your eyes.”

“It’s red. Are you telling me I’m possessed?” She turned to the mirror and held the garment against her chest. “You don’t think it makes my left knee look darker than the other?”

“What?”

“Never mind. So he wants six kids? Well, he probably doesn’t want them now right? Someday. And like you said, maybe someday you’ll want the same thing. How was the rest of the date? Actually, just fast forward to the juicy parts. Did he kiss you?”

Korra smiled. “No, he looked like he wanted to, but... I don’t know. I don’t know, Kuvira. When I’m with him, I just don’t feel... whatever it is you’re supposed to feel when you’re attracted to someone. And he’s cute. I find him attractive. But... shouldn’t there be more than that?”

Kuvira rolled her eyes. “Attraction is all you really need some times. Who cares if he doesn’t turn out to be the one you spend the rest of your life with? You’re young, Korra. Stop thinking about the long term and think about the here and now. Like, tonight. Maybe you’ll meet someone who makes your heart pitter-patter. You never know.” She held up another dress. “How about this one?”

Korra glanced at it pensively. “I think that one makes your left eyebrow look thicker than your right.”

“Funny. Maybe I should dress down. I wish I knew what everyone else was wearing. What is Asami wearing?”

Korra brightened at the mention of Asami. “Clothes, I imagine.”

“Helpful. What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. Are you sure it’s even okay for me to go to this party? I have nothing at all to do with this film.”

“The director said it was perfectly fine, I told you. In fact, she sounded rather cheerful about it. Come to think of it, she might think we’re a couple.”

Korra shook her head. “Super. I’m off to shower, then.”

“Wait, you didn’t finish telling me about your date.”

But Korra was already out the door. “Six kids. No kiss. That about covers it!”

“Find out what Asami is wearing!”

***

“One vodka and cranberry juice,” Taylor said, appearing suddenly at Asami’s side.

Asami smiled at the director and took the offered drink. “Excellent service at this party, I must say.”

“I take my role as hostess very seriously.” Taylor smiled and took a sip of her own drink. “Having fun?”

Fun. Not the word Asami would’ve used to describe the evening so far. Her emotions were too scattered and, mostly, she just wanted to go home. There was nothing more exhausting than making conversation with strangers when your mood was shot. “The karaoke was a nice touch,” she said, motioning toward the area in question. One of her future co-stars had taken the stage and the room cheered her on as she sang a very off-key rendition of Madonna’s “Ray of Light.”

“Why, thank you. When will you be going up there?”

Asami laughed. “Hmm, a quarter to never. You?”

“Right after you,” Taylor said and laughed. “Well, at least Opal’s having fun.”

Asami followed Taylor’s gaze to find her new manager taking the microphone. “Ah, damn. I wish I had a camera.”

“Don’t worry, I’m recording it,” Taylor said, a mischievous smile on her lips.

Asami had at one point or another heard Sober Opal sing, and it had been painful enough, but hearing Drunk Opal sing was an entirely different journey through auditory torture. “You so better make me a copy.”

“I suppose that can be arranged. But it’ll cost you.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Ms. Rose?”

“Probably,” Taylor said, grinning. “Too many margaritas for me.”

Asami smiled, feeling something that closely resembled contentment for the first time all day. “So, if you weren’t partly drunk you wouldn’t try to flirt with me?”

Taylor bit her lip as she looked down at the floor, brown hair momentarily obscuring her beautiful profile. When she looked back up she looked embarrassed. “Actually, I’ve only had one drink. It just seemed like a good excuse.” She shrugged, a half-smile on her lips. “I guess that answers your question.”

“I guess it does,” Asami said, and her smile brightened.

***

The party was in full swing by the time Kuvira and Korra arrived, and Kuvira led them straight to the bar-slash-kitchen. Once there, Kuvira wasted no time in flirting shamelessly with the bartender, who then served her his signature drink: the Disgruntled Inuk. “It came to me in a dream,” he said, “when I was traveling through Greenland.”

“Mmm,” said Kuvira. “Tastes like coconuts. Intriguing. So, do you usually bartend private parties?”

Korra rolled her eyes and turned away from the conversation. The sound of off-key singing caught her attention and she looked across the room to see Asami’s assistant in front of a microphone. Korra smiled at the sight, if not the sound, and let her gaze wander. She still didn’t know why she’d come. Despite Kuvira’s insistence that it was okay for her to be there, Korra felt uncomfortable and out of place. Everyone else was smiling, drinking, lost in conversation; while she was trying to reinvent excuses for why she’d said yes to this outing.

Korra knew why she’d come, even though she didn’t quite know how to admit it to herself. She’d come to see Asami. There was no other reason than that. And at that moment, Asami was across the room, talking to a hot brunette.

“Do you think she’s hotter than me?” Kuvira had moved closer to her and was pensively staring over at Asami.

“Asami Sato?”

Kuvira snorted. “No, not Asami. I know she’s hotter than me. I’ve made peace with her being hotter than me. I mean Taylor.”

Taylor. Korra looked back at the brunette, instantly recognizing her from the photos she’d seen online. Of course. “Yeah, she’s totally hotter than you,” she said.

“Damnit.” Kuvira sighed. “I really need to up my hotness factor. Did I tell you about that guy, Steven...”

Korra was only half paying attention to Kuvira. She was too busy staring at Asami and Taylor, thinking they looked incredible together, and hating herself for hating that they did. “What the hell,” she said, not realizing she’d spoken aloud until Kuvira responded.

“Exactly! I have perfectly symmetrical boobs. And I told him that.”

Korra turned to Kuvira. “Can I ask you a totally hypothetical question?”

“Totally hypothetical like totally based on truth or like really actually hypothetical?”

“Yes.”

Kuvira stirred her Disgruntled Inuk. “Shoot.”

Korra wanted to ask if it made sense to feel jealous when she had no reason to feel jealous, but the answer was clear. It made no sense. There was no reason on earth why the sight of Asami and Taylor standing next to each other should make Korra feel anything at all. “Never mind. I think I’m just losing my mind a little bit.”

“You need sex,” Kuvira said as if it was obvious. “Tell you what, you can have the bartender.”

“I don’t want the bartender.”

Kuvira shrugged. “Your loss. It’s a well-known fact that bartenders are awesome at...” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “You know.”

Korra didn’t know, and didn’t really want to know. “Next topic. Shouldn’t you be mingling or something?”

“Korra!” A cheerful, and very drunk Opal stood suddenly before them. She looked at Kuvira. “You must be Kuvira. I’m Opal, Asami’s ass...uh, manager.”

Kuvira blinked. “You’re Asami’s ass manager?”

Opal let out a somewhat hysterical laugh. “Hey, I think my boyfriend hit on you once. Isn’t that hilarious? I’m gonna get another drink.”

They watched Opal stumble her way to the bar.

“Wow, she’s wasted.” Kuvira laughed. “Why would she ever think that Bolin hit on me? Not that he wouldn’t; I’m hot enough. Still, I think I’d remember.”

Korra felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that she still hadn’t told Kuvira the truth about Asami, but guilt was instantly replaced by a new bundle of emotions.

“Taylor,” Kuvira said suddenly. “Hey!”

Korra looked over at the director as she walked closer, thinking it incredibly unfair that beautiful people should look even better in person. Korra wanted desperately to find a flaw, a weakness that might make Taylor Rose intimidating. But she found none.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” the director said warmly, and smiled at Korra. “I’m Taylor,” she said, stretching out her hand.

“Korra.” It felt strange, shaking hands with Saucy Fipbik, trying to match up the idea of her with the reality of her. This was who Asami had gone on a date with. This was who Asami considered perfect. What would be considered an appropriate emotional reaction to this moment? Probably not jealousy. “I’m going to get a drink,” she blurted, because a drink suddenly sounded like a great idea.

***

Asami had wandered out into the balcony after her conversation with Taylor . The director had excused herself, told her they’d catch up later; asked if there was any chance Asami might want to remain after the party, or even grab lunch the next day. They’d been interrupted by people before Asami could give an answer, and the actress had been relieved. She still didn’t know what to say. It was tempting to ignore their agreement and give in; to let Taylor distract away her feelings for Korra. It was tempting.

A gust of wind scattered strands of black hair cross her face, and Asami shivered against the cold air. She was alone on the balcony, the only one crazy enough to step outside for any reason that wasn’t smoking. But she needed a break from the socializing, from the handshakes and introductions, from the drunken conversations. It was a nice party, but the view from the balcony was nicer.

The wind drowned the sound of the sliding glass door opening behind her, so Asami was startled by the voice when it came. “Isn’t it a little cold to be out here?”

Asami recovered quickly from her surprise. “It’s not that bad,” she lied.

Korra shook her head as she walked over, a glass of white liquid in her hand. “Yeah, you strike me as the type that likes the cold. It’s not like your apartment is set to a million degrees or anything.”

“You exaggerate,” Asami said. “It’s barely a thousand.”

Korra smiled and held up her drink. “Have you tried this yet?”

“What is that? Glue?”

“A Disgruntled Inuk. Here.” Korra offered her glass. “Don’t worry; my highly contagious lip rash is only moderately contagious now.”

Asami tried the beverage and wrinkled her nose at the taste. It was a mixture of coconuts and vodka and something undecipherable. “I hate coconuts.”

“Really? I didn’t know that about you.” Korra took the glass back and leaned against the railing. “I love this apartment. You should’ve moved here. TriBeCa is so much cooler than the Upper East Side.”

“Is that right?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Yeah but I live near the Met and the Guggenheim. What does TriBeCa have?”

Korra looked thoughtful. “The film festival?”

“Guess I’ll have to move.”

“Guess so.” Korra smiled softly and took a sip from her drink. “I was actually in your neighborhood earlier; with Adam.”

Asami tried not to let the last two words bother her. “And how was the date?” She did want to know, in a masochistic sort of way.

“It was good,” Korra said. “We went to the Guggenheim.”

Asami waited for further details, but none were forthcoming. “I see.”

Korra sighed. “It was kind of weird,” she said a second later. “I mean, it was good. I had fun. I just don’t know. I’m attracted to him, and he’s nice. I just don’t know if I want a relationship with him. And Kuvira says I shouldn’t think in terms of relationships so much. I should just live and have fun. And I think by ‘have fun’ she just means ‘have sex’ but I’m not really sure that’s me.” She finished her drink.

Asami wasn’t quite sure what to do with all of that information. She liked the idea of Korra not wanting a relationship with Adam. She didn’t like the idea of her having sex with him. “So, what is you?”

Korra glanced at Asami, her blue eyes troubled. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

***

Korra hadn’t meant to admit that to Asami. She’d meant to say something else, something general and dismissive, something that would shift the subject toward a more festive topic.

But before Korra had a chance to backpedal out of the conversation, Asami said, “I don’t know, you seem to be well on your way.”

And despite herself, Korra couldn’t help but ask, “How so?”

“Well, you already know that you prefer TriBeCa to the Upper East Side. You know that you’re not repelled by the taste of coconuts and vodka; that’s a monumental self-realization. And you know that standing out in the cold with me is somehow preferable to listening to a bunch of drunk people sing karaoke. What else do you need to know?”

What it’s like to kiss you. The thought flew into her mind so unexpectedly that she almost dropped her glass. What is wrong with me? The wind hid the sound of her hammering heart. “Nothing,” she said, her voice sounding odd, even to herself. She tried again, hoping to mask her sudden nervousness. “That about covers it.”

Asami met her gaze and Korra looked away, worried that her thoughts were obvious. “So, I think Taylor asked me out,” Asami said, causing Korra to look at her again.

With forced cheerfulness that she wished would turn genuine, she said, “That’s great.”

“Is it?” Asami looked pensive as she leaned against the railing.

“Isn’t it?” Korra felt overwhelmed. A part of her wanted to be a good friend, to encourage Asami to go out with the director and see where things led. A different part wanted to tell her it was a bad idea, even if she had no reason to believe that it was. Another part still could only think about how gorgeous Asami looked in the soft light of the balcony. It was the latter part that scared Korra most, that made her want to make up an excuse and run back to the party; that made her wish she’d never come looking for Asami in the first place.

“We’d agreed it was best to wait,” Asami said, and Korra remembered that they were still in the middle of a conversation that had nothing to do with her own jumble of emotions. “Seems like a bad idea to go back on that.”

Korra wanted to agree, but she also wanted to disagree, because she didn’t see the point of them waiting for something that was inevitable. “Do you like her?”

“I do,” Asami said after a moment.

It bothered Korra that the answer bothered her. But she forged ahead, trying to pretend she felt otherwise. “Then maybe you should go for it. You’re both professionals.” It sounded like the right thing to say, even if it felt lousy to say it.

Asami didn’t reply; instead she stared thoughtfully at the buildings in the distance.

Korra was certain that at any other time she wouldn’t have minded the silence. But the lack of conversation left her vulnerable to thoughts she wasn’t ready to delve into. “Do you think it’s lame that we’re in the middle of a party mutually questioning our potential relationships?”

Asami’s laugh was short, but cheerful. “Probably.” She put her hands into the pockets of her hooded sweater and smiled. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Depends. How much would it sell to the tabloids for?”

Asami considered the question. “I’m not sure it would.”

“Then go ahead.”

“I hate parties,” Asami said in a near-whisper.

Korra snorted. “That’s common knowledge.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’m pretty sure there was a blog post about it somewhere, which I found while not-at-all-stalking you.”

Asami’s smile was cocky. “I thought we’d already established that you were stalking me?”

“Well, I take it back. I can’t be held responsible for the things I admit while under the influence of sobriety.”

“So I should only take you seriously when you’re drunk?”

It sounded like the sort of thing that might bite her in the ass later, but she went along. “Exactly.”

“Hmm,” Asami said. “I’ll remember that. Can I get you another drink?”

Korra laughed, feeling slightly better now that they’d moved away from their personal lives.

And yet a nagging feeling persisted, dancing on the edge of her consciousness. I do not have a crush on Asami Sato, she insisted, though all signs pointed to the contrary.

A gust of wind blew in their direction, colder than the ones before it. Asami shivered, and Korra had to fight the urge to move closer.

Okay, she thought, swallowing nervously, maybe a little one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that it isn’t just a “little” crush.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Waffles,” Megan said, her voice mixing with the sound of silverware banging on plates and the muddled voices of conversation. “No, pancakes. Maybe waffles and pancakes. What are you getting?”

Korra had been staring at the plastic-covered menu for at least five minutes and the only thing she’d registered was the fact that her left hand was now sticky. She dropped the menu on the table. “Waffles,” she said, though she wasn’t hungry. She’d left her appetite at Taylor’s party, somewhere between the balcony and the moments that followed.

“Then I’ll have pancakes,” Megan said decisively, putting down the menu and picking up a glass of orange juice. She regarded Korra over the rim of the glass as she drank. When she was finished, she sat back. “So.”

Korra wasn’t sure why she’d called Megan and asked her to breakfast, or why she’d given her strict instructions not to bring Tara. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. But now she wasn’t sure she felt like talking. She wasn’t sure there was anything worth talking about. So she had a small, microscopic crush on a famous actress that was sort of a friend. So what?

“You know, your sister probably thinks I’m cheating on her at the moment,” Megan said by way of a hint.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what’s up. Did you even sleep last night?”

Korra bit her lip, her gaze on the table. “Not really.”

“Are you pregnant?”

Korra glanced up sharply at the suggestion. “No,” she said. “God, no.”

“In trouble with the law?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Korra said, sighing. “It’s just... have you ever had feelings for someone and been unable to explain why you had feelings for them?”

Megan laughed. “Korra, feelings don’t come with a manual. They just come. And often they go. Is this about that Adam guy?”

“I wish.”

“A different guy?”

Korra shook her head.

“A... girl?”

Korra hesitated, but nodded. And then the waitress was at their side, asking for their order.

“Pancakes,” Megan said automatically.

“Waffles,” Korra said, and watched as the waitress took the menus and walked away.

Megan was silent for a few seconds. “Interesting.”

“Interesting,” Korra echoed, and reached for the cup of coffee she’d forgotten was there. “That’s all you have to say?”

“For the moment,” Megan said. “Where are you on this matter? Are you at the ‘does this mean I’m gay stage?’ Or somewhere before or after that?”

Korra frowned at the question. “I hadn’t gotten there yet.”

“So, this is a brand new development.”

“It’s about twelve hours old.”

“Interesting.”

“Stop saying ‘interesting.’ You’re supposed to have all the answers.”

“Then ask me something.”

Korra sipped her coffee, trying to get her thoughts in order. Her mind was a mess. She needed sleep. “You should have all the questions, too.”

Megan smiled gently. “Okay, here’s a question. Did you stay up all night because you’re having feelings for a girl? Or is it because you’re having feelings for this particular girl? Or is it because you’re having feelings for someone at all?”

“That’s three questions,” Korra said, in an effort to stall. But the answer was obvious. “It’s all of them. I haven’t felt this way in... God, I don’t even know how long. And liking a girl would be confusing enough, but why did it have to be this girl?” She met Megan's gaze. “And before you ask, I’m not telling you who she is.”

“Well, that’s no fun.” She pouted then shrugged. “Is she straight?”

“Nope.”

“Taken?”

“Nope.”

“So she’s gay and single?”

“She likes someone else.” Korra sighed. “But it’s like you said, feelings come and go, no? I just wanted to talk about it with someone that wouldn’t make a big deal about it. Kuvira and Tara... they’d blow it way out of proportion.”

“Well, I’m flattered I can be that person for you.”

Korra smiled, feeling moderately better. She finished her coffee just as the meal arrived, and they each took turns bathing their meals in syrup. “So, what’s new with you? How’s work?”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Awful.”

“Tara said you worked for some guy on Wall Street?”

“I work as an asshole’s slave,” Megan said, between bites. “When he cheats on his wife, my job is to run out and pick out some nice jewelry for her. When he cheats on his mistress, I go out and pick out a brand name purse. The man is a piece of work.”

“Wow,” Korra said. “I can’t believe women fall for a jerk like that.”

Megan laughed. “He’s rich, he’s gorgeous, and he’s charming as hell. Who wouldn’t fall for that?”

Korra thought of Asami and felt herself blush. Is that what she was attracted to; the fact that Asami was rich and charming and gorgeous?

“Anyway, I’d love to change jobs, but the pay is nice, and the work is kind of fun. I mean, I do get to shop for stuff I’ll never afford in a million years. I just wish my boss wasn’t such a jerk, you know?” She shrugged. “But back to you for a sec, and then I promise I’ll shut up about it. Why do you think you have a feelings for this girl?”

The question caught her off-guard, the wording sounding strange to her ears. Feelings for a girl. Was she actually here, discussing these things with another person? Was she really admitting that she had feelings for Asami Sato? She felt a wave of panic at the thought. She swallowed it down and took a deep breath. “I don’t even know if that’s what this is,” she said, her voice quiet. It felt strange to talk about Asami this way. As if it really mattered what she felt for the actress. As if Asami would even care. And still, she couldn’t help it. “I just... when she’s near me, I want to be closer to her, you know? Like the space between us is too much. I look at her and I wonder what it would be like to kiss her. And it freaks me out. I don’t go around having these kinds of thoughts about people. I don’t even know what it means.” She looked at Megan. “What does it mean?”

“I can’t answer that for you,” Megan said, her tone sympathetic. “But it sounds like the beginning of something.”

“Something?”

“Something you shouldn’t ignore.”

Korra shook her head and spread syrup across her plate with her fork. “This is stupid,” she said. “I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“Probably,” Megan said, watching her.

“Haven’t you ever had a crush like that; something fleeting and inconsequential that you later looked back on and rolled your eyes at?”

“I’ve had many of those.”

Korra felt relieved. It was nothing; nothing but too many Disgruntled Inuits clouding her judgment. “I’ll just stay away from her until this passes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why avoid her if it’s nothing?”

Korra sighed at the question as she searched for an answer. Because being around Asami was confusing; because she was terrified that these feelings wouldn’t go away otherwise.

“Can I give you some advice?” Megan asked, when Korra didn’t answer.

“Please.”

“I find that the best way to get over someone is to spend as much time with them as possible.”

Korra frowned. “How does that help?”

“Simple. The more time you spend with someone, the more you learn about them, and the more reasons you find not to like them. If you cut off contact you just put them up on a pedestal and leave them there. It doesn’t help you at all.”

“Interesting theory,” Korra said, thinking it over. There were bound to be a million things she wouldn’t like about Asami Sato. And spending more time with the actress wasn’t an unappealing idea. Of course, that assumed that Asami would even want to spend time with her in return. “Okay, but what if you spend time with someone and only find more reasons to like them?”

“Well,” Megan said, sitting back. “Would that be so bad?”

“Well, it defeats the goal of trying to get over them.”

Megan thought about that for a long moment, and then she shrugged. “Some people you’re just not meant to get over.”

***

Asami stood in her living room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled as she sipped, surveying the world outside for a while; enjoying the view of the city from many stories above.

“...won’t go for that, Cynthia,” Opal was saying, annoyance evident in her tone. “Fine! Fine, okay. I’ll talk to her.”

Asami didn’t turn. She knew what was coming. The inevitable place she’d need to be. The inevitable appearance she’d have to make. The inevitable pictures she’d have to pose for.

“You should get curtains,” Opal said, suddenly. “It’s so fucking bright in here.”

Asami liked the brightness, especially on cloudless days like this. She loved the bars of light dancing across her floor. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“You need to be seen, Asami,” Opal said, as if it had been her idea and not someone else’s. “I hate saying this, but Cynthia’s right. It’s not good for you be hidden away for too long. She’s sending me some invitations for you to look over. You go, you make nice, you flirt with the stud of the week, you smile for the cameras, and home you go.”

“Okay,” Asami said, knowing there was no use in arguing. It was time to play nice with the New York paps. It was time to rejoin the public scene and ensure that the flame of fame never wavered.

“That’s it? No argument?”

Asami turned to face her new manager, who sat on the couch looking pained and irritated. “You look like crap.”

“I drank too much at that damn party,” Opal said, rubbing her temples.

Asami smiled sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better, you gave a great performance on stage.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

Asami tried not to laugh. She was counting on Taylor to send her a copy of the video. It would make an excellent birthday present for Bolin. “Go home, Opal. Get some sleep. You could’ve told me everything over the phone.”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Opal said, sounding more like herself and less like the grump she’d been moments before. “I was pretty gone last night, but not gone enough that I didn’t see you talking to Korra.”

“Talking to her isn’t going to break me,” Asami said, taking a seat on the couch. “We’re friends. At least, I think of her as a friend. I don’t know what she thinks of me.” She shrugged and sipped her coffee, trying to seem unaffected by it all; trying to pretend that being on the balcony with Korra hadn’t been the highlight of her day, that she wasn’t depressed by the impossibility of it all. “I was supposed to have lunch with Taylor today but she called earlier to cancel. She said something about drowning in red tape.”

“You don’t sound too disappointed.”

Relieved, more like, but she shrugged that off too. “We’ll reschedule. It’s not like we won’t be seeing entirely too much of each other starting Tuesday.”

Opal nodded and yawned.

“Go home,” Asami said again. “Really. I’m fine. Right now it’s you that doesn’t look it.”

“Looking and being are entirely different things,” Opal said, but started gathering her things. “By the way, I put a call out for a new assistant for you. I figured you’d want to replace me as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Opal, but I’m not sure anyone in the world could replace you.”

Opal snorted as she stood. “You got that right.” She smiled. “I’ll call you later so we can discuss the many terrible parties Cynthia wants you to attend.”

“Can’t wait.” Asami was grateful for the silence that followed the closing of the door.

She sat on her couch and drank her coffee and tried unsuccessfully to think of something other than Korra. There were things she should be doing, things other than this unproductive business of yearning for the unattainable. But her mind kept going back to the night before.

Asami had felt something, standing on the balcony with Korra; something she couldn’t pinpoint no matter how often she ran the scene through her head. But something intangible and undecipherable had passed between them, she was certain of it. As certain as someone could be of something they couldn’t name.

Music interrupted her thinking and she turned briefly toward the kitchen counter, where she’d left her phone. The ringtone filled the silent air until Asami moved to answer. There was only one person with that ringtone. “Hello?”

“Hey!”

Asami smiled into the phone, setting the cup of coffee down on the counter and settling down on one of the stools. Through the line she could hear the unmistakable noise of traffic mixed in with what sounded very much like drums. “Where in the world are you?”

Korra let out a soft laugh which sounded even softer against the sounds in the background. “I’m in front of the Met.”

That didn’t explain the drums, but Asami decided to let that go. “You know, for someone who thinks the Upper East Side is thoroughly uncool, you sure spend a lot of time up here.”

“I never said it was uncool, I just said TriBeCa was cooler.”

“So what brings you up here, to my relatively inferior neighborhood?”

“I was hanging out with Megan and she got called up to do a work errand so I tagged along. But we’ve since parted ways. What are you up to?”

Asami looked around the apartment, hoping it would reveal an answer that was less pathetic than ‘sitting on my couch, trying not to think of you.’ “Just enjoying my last day of freedom.”

“Cops finally found the dead bodies you left buried in L.A., huh?”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Asami said, and smiled, all the while wondering why Korra had called.

“Hey, did you have lunch yet?”

Asami’s heart sped up at the question. Did Korra want to have lunch with her?

“I had coffee...”

“For lunch?”

“I woke up late,” Asami said, though it wasn’t much of an explanation. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, if you’re not busy, I thought you might like to try the best seaweed noodles in the city? I was on my way to pick some up.”

Asami wasn’t certain she had understood Korra correctly. “You want to buy me lunch?”

“Well...yeah,” Korra said, sounding shy now, her voice nearly drowned out by a passing car. “I mean, unless you don’t want me to.”

Korra’s uncertainty made Asami’s heart ache; she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do than have lunch with Korra. Of course, she couldn’t say that. Not in those words. “Hmm, the best seaweed noodles in the city with the best artist in the city; sounds like a good deal.”

“Ooh, flattery,” Korra said, sounding more confident now. “Maybe I’ll throw in some cookies.”

Asami laughed, feeling both lightheaded and giddy at the thought that the girl she had feelings for was buying her lunch.

“So, be there in like... twenty minutes or so?”

“See you then.” Asami waited until Korra had hung up to do the same. She sat for a minute or two, staring nervously at her phone; half-expecting Korra to call back and say she’d changed her mind, or had dialed the wrong number originally and was terribly sorry for her mistake. But the phone remained silent, leading Asami to believe that everything was as it should be.

She glanced quickly at the time. Seventeen minutes left to shower and get ready, which left no time at all for sitting around feeling doubtful.

Asami showered quickly, lingering under the spray only long enough to convince herself that none of this meant anything; that Korra was just being friendly. And that was good enough, Asami thought, as she picked out something to wear from the plethora of options in her closet.

She opted for black jeans and a deep red t-shirt that she’d often been complimented in. Not that it matters, she reminded herself, as she slipped into the clothes.

The knock came soon after, and Asami hesitated only briefly to regard her reflection. Her hair was still wet, but it would have to air dry. She often wished her mirror could talk just so it could tell her how she looked. Not that it matters, she repeated again, walking away from the mirror and her uncertain reflection to welcome Korra into her home.

Her heart sped up as she turned the knob, anticipating those few, awkward seconds that accompanied any initial greeting. She smiled as Korra came into view, unable to help the way her stomach fluttered at the sight of her.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Korra said as she walked in, the scent of food trailing in behind her. She glanced into the living room area and then back at Asami. “The couch arrived! It looks great.”

“Yeah, this girl I know helped me pick it out,” Asami teased, closing the door. “She’s a little weird, but I think she has good taste.”

Korra made a face that read something like, “Hey.”

Asami decided she liked that face. “You can hang your jacket on my brand new coat rack.” And she motioned to the object in question as if she were modeling a first place prize on a TV game show.

Korra handed over the bag of food and began unwinding her scarf. “Fancy,” she said. “Did it come with the couch?”

“Opal brought it over. I think she was tired of having to put her things in my room.” Asami watched with veiled interest as Korra removed the excess layers of clothing. She wondered if Korra knew how sexy she looked in a tank top. She had muscles for days. She caught herself staring and dropped her gaze to the bag in her hands. “This smells good.”

Korra met the comment with a smile. “I hope you like it,” she said as she hung her jacket. “Next time I can treat you to the best pizza in the city.”

Next time. “Hmm, sounds good.” Asami headed toward the kitchen to set up their meal. “I was surprised by your call,” she said, before she could think better of it, “I would’ve figured you’d be out with Adam.”

“Oh,” Korra said, sounding surprised. “Well, he said he’d call. He hasn’t yet. But I hear that’s normal in the dating world.”

“I’m sure he’ll call,” Asami said, trying to sound supportive. She hated the thought of Korra with someone else, but hated the thought of someone hurting Korra even more.

Korra shrugged as she joined Asami in the unpacking of the food. “Oh, what happened with Taylor? I forgot you might have plans with her today.”

“She had to work,” Asami said, aware that Korra was standing entirely too close. She hated that she enjoyed the closeness; it felt like a betrayal. She stepped away, moved toward the cupboard to grab a couple of glasses. “What would you like to drink?”

“Water is fine. Sorry about Taylor.”

“Don’t be,” Asami said, filling the two glasses with water. “Starting this week we’ll practically be living together.” She looked over to see that Korra was looking at her strangely. “Something wrong?”

Korra shook her head, offering a quick smile. “No, nothing at all.” She walked around the counter to sit down. “Are you excited about the new film?”

Asami hesitated before answering. The truth was that she had mixed feelings about the movie. She loved the story, loved the idea of it, but playing a lesbian still terrified her. The thought of doing love scenes with both Taylor and Kuvira filled her with panic. “Umm,” she said, as she joined Korra. “I’m not sure how I feel about it exactly.”

Korra looked at her curiously, as if trying to guess what Asami meant by that. Then she looked away. “Dig in,” she said, sliding a pair of chopsticks toward Asami.

Asami accepted the offering with minimal complaint, recognizing at once that she was starving. She was aware that Korra was watching her as she took the first bite, and though she hadn’t given much thought to the claim that these were the best seaweed noodles in New York, the burst of flavor in her mouth told her that Korra could very well be right. “This is delicious,” she admitted.

Korra looked satisfied with Asami’s assessment and turned to her own meal. 

Asami returned to her food. “Hmm, you know, these noodles are really good, but I’m not sure it’s the best in the city anymore.”

Korra looked at her in surprise. “Oh?”

“Yeah, you still haven’t tried my recipe,” Asami said. “I mean, if you’re up for the challenge.”

“You think you can make better seaweed noodles than this?”

“Oh, I know I can.”

“Well, that I’d have to see,” Korra said. “Challenge accepted, though I reserve the right to be perfectly honest. I take my seaweed noodles very seriously.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Asami ran her weekly schedule through her mind. “How about next Saturday?”

“It’s a date.”

***

It’s a date. Now why had she said that? It wasn’t a date. Korra knew that. She didn’t even know if she wanted it to be a date, were a date even an option; which of course it wasn’t. She glanced briefly at Asami, aiming to say something else to dismiss the ‘date’ comment as a kind of joke, but her phone chose that moment to interrupt the suddenly silent air. “Sorry,” Korra said, digging into her pocket to retrieve the object. “It’s my parents.”

“No worries.”

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie. Come over, would you? You never call.” In the background of her mother’s voice, Korra could hear the overacted chatter of her mom’s favorite TV show, which must’ve meant her dad wasn’t home.

“I called on Friday. Dad said you were out.”

“He didn't say anything to me. I'm going to have a talk with him. Look, when are you going to come here? There's someone I want you to meet.”

If her mother wanted her to meet someone, it could only mean one thing: setup. “Who?” she asked, already guessing the answer. No doubt good-looking, no doubt male.

“A very decent boy, you'll see. The cousin of a friend who has just graduated from a university in Chicago and is coming here to New York to do his master's degree. He's very handsome, Korra.”

“Mom, please, I don’t want you setting me up. I’m already sort of seeing someone. I told you about him.”

“You’ve told me nothing,” her mother said, sounding annoyed now. “All I know is that he’s an artist like you. The two are going to die of hunger. Two artists together. Are you crazy, honey?”

“We’re not going to starve just because we’re both artists, please, mom. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I only tell you because I love you.”

“I’m at a friend’s place; can we talk about this later?”

“What friend? That boyfriend?”

“Female friend.”

“Good. I have some chicken that I want you to come and take. You can make some soup for you and Kuvira.”

Korra often wondered how her mother’s brain functioned. How had they gotten from a romantic setup attempt to food? “You know I don't like to cook,” she said. “Why don’t you offer them to Tara?” It was risky, Korra knew, bringing her step-sister up, but it felt important to keep mentioning her.

There was silence from her mother’s end of the line, and had it not been for the background noise Korra would’ve thought perhaps her mother had already hung up. But then she spoke, “Pick them up before Friday or they will go bad.” And the line went dead.

Korra sighed, momentarily forgetting that Asami was still sitting beside her, doing her best to look un-interested in the conversation. Korra had a feeling the actress had heard every word; Korra’s half anyway. “Sorry about that,” she said, and dropped the phone on the counter next to her now undoubtedly cold noodles.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Korra said, and meant to change the subject, but Asami was looking at her with concern and before she could stop herself she was babbling. “It was just my mother trying to drive me insane like usual. One second she’s trying to set me up with some random boy I’ve never met, the next she’s telling me Adam’s not good enough for me because he’s an artist. At least she’s moved on from trying to get me back with Mako.” She shrugged, suddenly feeling like she’d said too much. “Is your mom like that?”

“My mom died when I was young,” Asami said, and Korra suddenly froze.

“God, I’m sorry,” Korra said, wishing she could go back and delete the question from the transcript of their conversation. She’d known about Asami’s mother, had read about it somewhere on the Internet, but it was hard to remember sometimes that the person she read about online was the same person sitting next to her.

“It was a long time ago,” Asami said as if to mean that it didn’t matter. But Korra could see a flash of something in Asami’s green eyes that made her think otherwise. “My step-mother drives me crazy, though, if that answers your question.”

It didn’t, not exactly. “Does she try to set you up with hot guys too?”

Asami looked genuinely amused by the question, as if the thought were ridiculous. “Guys, yes. We don’t get along. You know, we pretend, for my father’s sake, and for the sake of giving in to appearances. She’s big on appearances. She likes the idea of me, of me being famous and all of that, but she doesn’t like me. I’ll always be someone else’s daughter to her, a stain on her otherwise perfect marriage.”

Asami managed not to sound bitter, somehow, and Korra was surprised that the actress could speak so matter-of-factly about something that had to hurt her. “What about your father. Are you close with him?”

Asami looked thoughtful, as though the question had never occurred to her. “Not really,” she said finally. “I know he loves me, but we both know that I don’t fit in with his life; that I don’t want to fit in with it. He tried for many years to get us to be a family, but it never worked out.” She looked hesitant, as if she wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure she should. Then, “I was very close with my grandmother. But she passed away a few years ago.”

Korra could tell that this wasn’t a subject Asami talked about very often, and Korra wanted to hug her, or take her hand, or do something to show that she understood that the topic was painful. But she wasn’t brave enough for physical contact, no matter how badly she wanted to close the space between them. “You’d never mentioned her before,” she said, trying for something different than the usual ‘I’m sorry.’

“I know. I don’t really like to talk about it,” Asami said, her tone gentle, as if not wishing to offend.

“Because it hurts too much?” Korra knew she was pushing the subject, but she couldn’t keep the words from tumbling out of her mouth. Asami didn’t answer, so Korra added, “My family never supported me when I was little. They still don’t. I don’t really like to talk about it either.”

Asami looked at her, a sad smile playing at the corner of her lips. She was silent for several seconds, until finally she said, “Do you want me to heat up your noodles?”

The shift in conversation startled Korra briefly and she glanced at the food in question, having forgotten it was there. “Oh. No, it’s fine. I don’t mind it cold.”

“Are things any better between your family and your sister?”

This conversation was starting to feel like a rollercoaster. “No, it doesn’t look like it,” she said, the subject depressing as always. “I don’t think they’re ever going to get over it. It’s frustrating.” But it was more than that, Korra was starting to realize. She’d thought all along that her persistence in mentioning Tara was done out of love, out of a desire to see her family reunited. And while that was a big part of it, it wasn’t the whole truth. Buried deep beneath her selfless acts of goodwill was a deeper, more selfish reason: She was terrified that one day it would be her at the other end of her mother’s contempt.

“You okay? I’m sorry I brought that up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Korra forced a quick smile in Asami’s direction. “I’m fine,” she said. And she was. With any luck at all, her taste in women was limited to Hollywood actresses, which hopefully meant that she wouldn’t have to worry about these types of feelings bubbling up again. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to push her current feelings back to wherever they’d sprung from, and then she’d be perfect. Right. In any case, it was time to change the subject. “So, why aren’t you sure how you feel about the movie?” she asked, picking up her noodles before they got any colder than they already were.

Asami tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and stared pensively at the view from the windows. Korra watched her, quietly wondering how many other people harbored secret feelings for the actress. When Asami looked back at her, Korra looked away, pretending she’d been focused on eating. “I think I’m just nervous about being with Taylor on screen, while...”

“Being with her off-screen?” Korra supplied, her stomach knotting at the thought.

Asami looked embarrassed, though she didn’t go as far as blushing. “Nothing’s happened,” she said.

“But it could.”

Asami nodded slowly, as if processing the idea of that. “Yeah, I guess it could. But, you know, I’m nervous about that, too.”

Asami’s openness surprised Korra. It was strange to see the actress looking so shy and uncertain. It made Korra want to... what? Kiss her? Hug her? She took a sip of water while thinking of something to say that wouldn’t give away how she felt about the situation. “She’s probably nervous, too.”

“Taylor Rose?” Asami let out a soft laugh. “From what I gather, she’s had her share of women.”

“Yeah, but probably none as beautiful as you,” Korra said, and the words were out before she had a chance to stop them.

Asami looked at her suddenly, startled, and Korra could swear that the actress was blushing now.

Anxious to change the words lingering in the air between them, Korra said, “I mean, being that you were just named one of the world’s most beautiful people, it seems like a safe bet.” She smiled, hoping to look casual, though she felt nothing short of mortified by her inability to edit herself.

Asami seemed to recover from her surprise, and was smiling at Korra in a way that would’ve appeared flirtatious had Korra not known any better. “Were you stalking me again?”

“Kuvira was, actually,” Korra said, grateful to have the spotlight off herself for a change. “She’s really excited.”

“I’m really happy she got the part,” Asami said, smiling still. “She’s really good.”

Korra detected something else hidden beneath the words, and she found herself wondering how Asami felt about her scenes with Kuvira. “Is she your type?” she asked, because her mouth had lost all communication with her brain and was apparently flying solo.

“Is who my type?”

“Kuvira.”

“As in... am I attracted to her?” Asami sounded both perplexed and amused.

The question had plagued Korra from the moment Kuvira told her that they’d kissed. Korra hated the idea of Taylor and Asami together, but even worse was the notion that Asami might be at all attracted to Kuvira. Worse still was the knowledge that none of this should be bothering her in the first place. It was none of her business who Asami found attractive. “Sorry,” she said, feeling foolish. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“She is more of Bolin’s type.”

It was Asami’s diplomatic way of saying that she wasn’t interested, and though she didn’t want to admit it, Korra was relieved. “You prefer brunettes?” Korra teased.

“I don’t put much emphasis on hair color, honestly,” Asami said a moment later. “Why? Is there someone you want to try and set me up with?”

Yes, this hot brunette right here. If she weren’t so petrified of the idea, Korra quickly amended. “No, I just find it mystifying that you’ve never had a girlfriend. I thought maybe you just had a really specific type... like a bald, one-eyed hunchback... with a beard.”

“That does sound terribly sexy.”

Korra loved Asami’s smile. She was certain it was to blame for all of these feelings. No one with a pulse could resist a smile like that; she was sure of it. “I’ll be on the lookout, then.” She thought of Megan's advice, how spending time with someone might lead to getting over them, but spending time with Asami just made things worse. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Interview and photo shoot in the morning, and I am pretty sure that I’ll have to be at some kind of party tomorrow night. Why?”

“Are you free for lunch?”

Asami shook her head regretfully. “I’d be free for dinner?”

Korra thought of the chicken her mother wanted her to pick up, which would undoubtedly come with an assortment of other food that Korra would be forced to prepare. “Have you ever made chicken soup before?”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“Would you be at all interested in helping me cook whatever random ingredients my mother forces upon me when I go visit her tomorrow? No pressure, if you don’t feel like it.”

“I thought you hated cooking?”

“Oh, I do. But you love it. So, I figure my hatred of it and your love of it would coalesce to create a balanced cooking experience.”

“And in an odd way that makes perfect sense. Count me in.”

Korra was shocked by her own audacity, but relieved that Asami had accepted her somewhat spontaneous offer. “So, say... around... six?”

Asami smiled again. “It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh they’ve both got it baaaaad. 
> 
> Also, I’ve been looking for new fics to convert. I found one that I read awhile ago that was really good, so I left a comment on the work. Unfortunately the author rejected me. Soooooo if y’all have any suggestions lmk hahaha.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The sunlight chased shadows across the black carpet of the limousine as the vehicle pushed forward through mid-day traffic, and Asami watched the moving patterns with mild interest before shifting her gaze to the window. Date. That was the word Korra had used and Asami had echoed it, thinking it safe. But there was nothing safe about the way she felt around Korra, and especially about Korra, which made it all the more difficult to stop obsessing about word choice versus intent.

“The photos from today turned out great, by the way.”

Asami said nothing as the moments of silence ticked by. She didn’t know how to express that she didn’t care.

“And that photographer was pretty hot, huh?” Opal continued, simultaneously tapping away on the keys of her cell phone. “What was her name? Something exotic, I think.”

“Jane,” Asami said, and almost smiled.

“Still, she was hot.”

Asami hadn’t noticed. She vaguely recalled the lights shining down on her as she struggled to maintain a photogenic pose, listening as the woman’s voice guided her from one captured moment to the next. She mostly remembered thinking about Korra. “How did you do it?”

Opal frowned as she looked up from her Blackberry. “Do what exactly?”

“Get over me.” Asami stared intently at her friend, searching for the answer in her eyes. “You said you’d liked me before... how did you get over me?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question?” Opal sounded both startled and embarrassed. She looked away, as if debating whether or not to answer. And then, “There’s no trick to it, Asami. There’s no one way to get over someone.” She looked down at her phone again but made no move to resume typing on it. “I’m guessing that’s what you’re really asking.”

“It is,” Asami admitted, and the thought that she might have offended Opal entered her mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. Your feelings matter to me. Even the ones I didn’t know about at the time.”

Opal didn’t respond right away, and the sound of surrounding traffic took the place of silence in the interim. “Asami, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but... have you ever considered that maybe you only like Korra because you think you can’t have her? That maybe you only allow yourself to feel something for her because you think it’s safe?”

Safe; there was that word again, and Asami frowned only briefly before resting her head against the window. She let the question loiter in the empty spaces of the limo as she watched the buildings pass. What was the purpose of finding reason to emotions? There was no such thing as safety where feelings were concerned. There was only the hope of love and the fear of love and both weighed down with equal force. “I can want her,” she said finally, “and still fear having her.”

“But would you still want her if you had her?”

“Yes,” Asami said easily, knowing it was true. “Not that there’s any chance of that happening.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Well, I’d rather think that there isn’t,” Asami admitted. “Even if she liked me... even if I could bring myself to hope that she’d return my feelings... what’s the point? She’d always leave me in the end.”

“Well, that’s a dumb attitude.”

“We’re all with the bluntness today, aren’t we?”

Opal shifted in her seat, looking serious. “Asami, you can’t go into a relationship thinking it’s not going to last. Granted, odds are that it won’t, but that’s not to say that the journey to the breakup isn’t meaningful. Just because two people find out that they’re not made for each other after months of putting up with stuff like Mexican robots and other stupid things doesn’t mean the relationship was a total waste of time.”

The words registered one-by-one in Asami’s mind, and she looked at Opal in surprise. “You and Bolin broke up?”

Opal bit her bottom lip in response. Then she said, “We’re kind of in a big fight.”

“Opal,” Asami said, feeling impatient. “Why didn’t you tell me? 

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to ignore it honestly.”

Opal let out a laugh and changed the subject. “He didn’t tell you about Buttercup? Wait, no, not just ‘Buttercup’ but ‘Buttercup!’ with an exclamation point at the end.”

“I think I’d remember that conversation.”

“It’s this mystery script he told no one about. And somehow, God only knows, he secured funding. And I was all excited about it until he told me it was about a killer Mexican robot named Buttercup whose battery runs on nachos.”

Asami’s mood lightened and she giggled. There was something uplifting about Bolin’s insanity. “Please tell me it’s going to be a musical.”

Opal brightened suddenly. “Oh my God, I hope so! Anyway, he’s still being all sorts of secretive about it,” she added, as her cell phone chimed. She took at look at the screen and shook her head. “Did you take a look at those invitations I gave you? Inquiring minds want to know what parties you’ll be attending.”

“I think I’ll go by that night club that’s opening tomorrow night,” Asami said, mentally sorting through the options. “I was thinking...” She paused, realizing she hadn’t thought it through enough and perhaps shouldn’t voice it.

“You were thinking...?”

She considered saying something other than the truth but decided that was senseless. “I was thinking of asking Taylor to meet me there... you know, accidentally on purpose. But I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid.” 

“I think as long as you’re not caught making out with her in the bathroom, it should be fine.” Opal smiled. “So you’re going for it then?”

“I don’t know,” Asami said, because that was really the truth of it. “I feel like I should do something other than pine over Korra. And I like Taylor... I just can’t figure out to what degree I like Taylor, or to what degree I could like Taylor.”

“You overanalyze this stuff too much. You either like her or you don’t. You either want to sleep with her or you don’t. You can think about it all you want but it’s not going to change how you feel when she’s in front of you. And the same goes for Korra; you can downplay your emotions to your heart’s content but it’s not going to make you want her any less.”

“Maybe I should fire you as my manager and hire you as my shrink.”

“You could,” Opal agreed with a smile, “but I don’t think you could afford me.”

***

The apartment smelled faintly of bleach and fried food; the remnants of another productive day in Senna’s life. Korra sat in the living room, thinking that her mother looked both exhausted and depressed. Guilt rose within her with such force that she swallowed. She should’ve visited sooner and called more often. She should’ve been more available. But she’d been selfish, caught up in frivolities and silly crushes, and now here was her mother, looking sullen and worn down.

“I really wish you’d dress better,” Senna said, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “Don’t you have nicer clothes?”

Korra glanced down at her t-shirt and jeans and wondered what her mother saw instead; perhaps a leather bustier and a thong; maybe chaps. But the guilt was still there, making her want to please her mother. “Maybe we can go shopping sometime.”

Surprise shone clearly in Senna’s blue eyes. “Good,” she said, “if you want.”

“I want,” Korra said confidently, thinking that maybe it was true. Maybe she wanted to dress nicer, whatever that meant. Maybe a certain movie star would notice her then. And she pushed that thought away before it could take shape in her mind. “Where’s dad?”

It seemed like an innocent enough question, but her mother’s mood darkened. “I don’t know,” she said, in a tone that implied the end of the conversation. She reached for the remote and turned on the television. “I’m going to watch the end of my show.”

The sudden shift caught Korra off-guard and she struggled to make sense of her mom’s reaction. What had she missed? “I’ll just pack up the chicken,” she said, standing.

“I threw it out.”

“What? Why?”

“It wasn’t good.”

Korra stared at her mother, hoping for an explanation or at least a moment of clarity through osmosis; neither came. Senna turned up the volume on the television and settled into the chair.

“You should watch this,” she said, “it’s really good. There’s a young guy... very handsome. His name is Evan. He’s in love with a girl but he doesn’t know that she’s really the spirit of his dead sister, Emma.”

Korra remained silent.

“Oh your cousins Eska and Desna are visiting for the next few days. They’re in the guest room if you want to say hi.”

“Oh ok,” she said, annoyed that her mother failed to let her know they had company. 

She headed down the hall, feeling less guilty. Now she remembered why she hadn’t visited in a while.

She knocked on the guest room, which was Tara’s old room, door. When they answered, she entered, trying to remember the last time she’d been in there. She couldn’t put a date to it, but little had changed. The queen bed remained against the left wall. The walls were plastered with predictable images: Mountains, penguins, and the occasional woman in swimwear. How did they not know Tara was gay sooner?

Korra was nearly done with her inspection when her gaze landed on a familiar face. Hidden within the collage of wall decorations was a small poster of Asami Sato, clad in a black bikini; water and wet sand sprinkled across her pale skin. Korra’ first instinct was to stare, to take in Asami’s perfect form and commit it further to memory. But then she felt a jolt of anger at herself, and then at her sister. She had the sudden urge to rip the poster from the wall and sling hypocritical comments at Tara the next time she saw her.

“Um, are you just gonna stand there all day?”

Her anger deflated at the sound of their voices. Eska and Desna were sitting at the desk, playing a video game on the computer. “What are you playing?”

“Ice Wars,” they said in unison distractedly, their fingers moving quickly over the keys. “What brings you to our lair?”

“My mom is being weird.”

“Yeah.”

Korra leaned against the side of the desk. She watched them quietly for a minute or two. “What’s going on with her?” she asked, returning to the subject at hand. “She won’t tell me.”

“She thinks Tonraq is sleeping with the lady downstairs,” Desna said casually, her attention on the game.

The words shocked her and she blinked. “What? Why? Is he?”

Eska snorted and then laughed. “Tonraq is too much of a pussy to cheat on her. But don’t worry, I looked into it to make sure. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding, distracted still by the action on the screen, but sounding passionate about the conversation matter. “I’d kick his fucking ass if he did.”

Korra thought of her father and felt her anger for his return. “Why does my mom think he’s cheating?”

“Because Senna said he’s seeing some shrink downtown,” she said. “I went through his stuff and found the receipts and the appointments. He got to go like three times a week. There was some letter from his boss, too, demanding that he see someone ‘cause of some stress-related breakdown he’d had at work. But of course he’s too fucking ashamed to admit that. So he keeps making up shit about where he is and what he’s been doing. He came home with some chicken the other day and said he’d gone to pick them up at the market and then today that lady came by asking for sugar or some crap and somehow it came out that the chicken was from her. Senna flipped out.”

“Jesus,” Korra said, wrapping her mind around the story. Wondering where she’d been through it all. “Why is he having breakdowns?”

Desna turned her head to look at Korra. “Tara, probably. He’s all torn up about it; goes around acting like he lost a daughter. Senna, I think is just relieved it wasn’t you that turned out queer.” 

Panic, that’s what Korra felt at the words; fear so strong that it left her momentarily breathless. Her gaze flashed to the poster of Asami and she felt ashamed.

“How’s Tara?” Eska asked softly, so softly that Korra almost didn’t hear her.

“She seems okay,” she said carefully, unsure why her cousin was asking; surprised that she had. “Why?”

She looked at her quickly and shrugged. “I miss her.” Her voice was quiet, as if worried that someone else might overhear. “I don’t hate her or something. You know?”

Korra didn’t know, but she suddenly wanted to. “I heard you reacted pretty strongly when you found out...”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged again, uncomfortable with the topic. The game appeared forgotten. “Look, this is the sort of shit that spreads around. Suddenly everyone’s whispering about it. You know how it is, don’t pretend you don’t. Those old people on the stoop with nothing better to do than sit around talking shit about other people. And before you know it, you can’t go anywhere without hearing crap like, ‘Oh, that’s Senna’s daughter, she's gay now’ and suddenly they’re wondering if you’re gay too. I don’t need that kind of stuff, you know? It’s hard enough trying to keep some fucking asshole from breaking my face with her hand for no other reason than she thinks I looked at her man.”

Korra sighed, wanting to hug her cousins and take them someplace safe. But nowhere was safe, so she simply hugged them. They were weird, but she still loved them.

“Let go, Korra,” they said, but didn’t sound convincing, and after a second, she felt them hug her back. “We miss you, you know. When are you bringing that new guy of yours around? I gotta see if he’s good enough for you.”

Korra pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “It’s nothing serious.”

“No? Senna made it sound like you were in looooove.”

“She would. What about you guys? Any prospects?”

“I’m saving myself for Kuvira, you know that.” Desna smiled jokingly. “How is she? I heard she’s in some Asami Sato movie?”

Asami’s name sounded odd coming from her cousins lips. “She is.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, shaking her head. “Hey, is it true that there’s like... chicks kissing in it?”

Uncomfortable now, Korra frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

“Read it online somewhere. I was looking it up to see if Kuvira was mentioned, but there wasn’t much. Just that Asami Sato would be making out with chicks. Is it true?”

“That’s what I hear,” she said.

“Hot. She’s so hot. But not in a gay way. Do you think Kuvira would introduce me?”

The change in conversation had become decidedly disturbing, Korra realized. It was bad enough that her sister had Asami’s picture on her old wall; the thought that others might also lust after her made Korra’s stomach turn. “I’ll ask her,” she said, and stood. “I should get going.”

“Okay, see ya.”

“I’ll call you guys,” she said, her guilt from earlier returning. “We should hang out sometime.”

“With Kuvira?” They asked hopefully.

“What, I’m not enough for you?”

“When you can introduce us to Asami Sato, maybe.”

Korra was tempted to say that she could; that, in fact, she was headed to Asami’s apartment soon to cook now-nonexistent food and hang out. But she only smiled and said, “Fair deal.” She forced herself not to glance at Asami’s poster before stepping back out into the hall.

***

“Your raw ingredients smell remarkably like Chinese food,” Asami said, as Korra walked past her into the apartment, carrying a white plastic bag in one hand. She did her best not to stare too intently as Korra passed.

“Change of plans,” Korra said, looking apologetic as she handed the bag to Asami.

“Didn’t make it to your mom’s after all?” she guessed, peeking into the bag to make sure her senses weren’t lying. Familiar white cartons stared up at her.

Korra shrugged out of her jacket as she answered, “Long story. I hope you're not bored of Chinese food.”

Asami wondered if she’d get to hear the long story or if the subject was closed to discussion. “I'll never get bored of Chinese,” she said, and began leading them toward the living room.

“Hey, that’s new,” Korra said suddenly, stopping to look at the new coffee table. “How do you manage to get new furniture from one day to the next?”

Asami placed the food on the new table; a late-night purchase inspired by insomnia and boredom. “I ordered it online and it arrived this afternoon,” she said. “But don’t worry, I called in and asked someone to sit on it for me to make sure it wasn’t lumpy.”

Korra narrowed her eyes in an attempt to look menacing, but succeeded only in looking like she was trying to read something from far away. “Joke all you want,” she said, giving up on the squinting. “This couch is godly and I bet you that your friend Spankybottoms would agree.”

Asami grinned at her from the kitchen, and then returned to the business of getting the drinks. She guessed that water would always be Korra’s beverage of choice, so she didn’t even bother asking before pouring Evian into a glass. But then she hesitated before bringing the drinks over, suddenly embarrassed by her assumption. Maybe Korra would like to drink something else. “What would you like to drink?” she asked, hoping that Korra wouldn’t notice that the drinks had been served.

“Water, please,” Korra said, busy placing the cartons of food on the table and therefore oblivious to what Asami was doing in the kitchen.

Asami felt both pleased and relieved as she carried the filled glasses toward her destination. She added ‘drinks water with meals’ to the list of things she knew about Korra.

The list was nowhere near long enough; she wanted to know more. Get a grip, she thought as she took a seat, doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact. She was certain that the words ‘I want you desperately’ were written all over her face, and Korra would take one look at her and know everything.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” Korra said, opening cartons, “so I went for variety.”

“I like everything,” Asami said, distracted by the delicious smell of food as well as Korra’s proximity.

“Good, ‘cause I think I got pretty much everything,” Korra said, and laughed. “You’re not on a diet or anything, are you?”

“Not at the moment,” Asami said, picking up a carton to inspect its contents. Shrimp lo mein; her favorite.

“So you’re just naturally perfect?”

Asami risked a glance in Korra’s direction, startled by the unexpected compliment. “Well, I do have a personal trainer and sometimes work with a consultant dietitian back home,” she admitted.

“Ah, so not naturally perfect,” Korra teased.

Asami contemplated Korra’s words. She was used to women complimenting her appearance, but seldom did these comments come without an obvious hint of envy. She couldn’t figure out what Korra was thinking. Women didn’t just call her perfect without betraying a certain level of sarcasm. Any positive comment was generally followed by an unspoken and scathing afterthought and Asami had learned to read between the lines. But when it came to Korra, she drew a blank. “I’m hardly perfect,” she said, just to see what Korra would say to that.

“No,” Korra said, as if agreeing. She’d picked up a carton of food and dug in with abandon. She looked thoughtful as she chewed. “I’m sure you don’t think so. But to... to other people looking at you... you are.”

What other people, Asami wanted to know, forgetting all about the food. She had the overwhelming urge to grab Korra by the shoulders and say, “Be direct, damnit!” But she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she watched Korra eat until she realized she was staring, and then she looked away. “Do you usually eat from the container?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” she said, clearly embarrassed. “It’s such a bad habit. Kuvira has this thing where she likes to imitate stuff on TV, and people in movies are always eating out of the box, with chopsticks, I might add, which is totally impractical. I know, because she managed to fling pork fried rice all over our living room several times before giving up and switching to a fork. Long story short: I hate doing dishes so the concept was appealing... and now here I am; Chinese food faux pas central.”

“Try saying that ten times fast.” She glanced down at the open carton of shrimp lo mein. “Do you eat shrimp?”

“Yeah,” Korra said. “But don't worry, you can have them all.”

Asami picked up a plastic fork and shrugged. “Then I’ll join you in being totally improper.” Korra’s smile was reward enough for doing something that went completely against her dining etiquette. “So, why the change of plans?”

Korra looked confused for a moment, as if trying to recall what the plans were originally. “Oh,” she said, comprehension dawning. “My mom thinks my dad is cheating on her with the lady who gave him the chicken.”

Asami wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting as an answer, but that was hardly it. “Is he cheating?”

“According to my cousins, he is merely going to a psychiatrist three times a week because he’s having trouble coping with Tara’s sexuality. And it appears that he prefers dealing with a wife that thinks he’s cheating to admitting any sign of weakness, emotional or otherwise.”

“Wow,” Asami said, because nothing else came to mind as an appropriate response.

“And so my mom claims that she threw the chicken away, but knowing her temper as I do, I’d not be surprised if she’d instead flung them at the lady’s head.” She paused to contemplate the thought. “I really hope they don’t get sued over this.”

“You’re not going to tell your mom that he’s not really cheating?”

“I thought about it,” Korra said. “I thought about it all the way back here, and at the Chinese restaurant, and on the walk to your apartment, and I’m still thinking about it. I just feel like it’s none of my business, you know? I don’t want to get involved. Maybe I can send her an anonymous letter instead.” She shrugged. “I bet your family isn’t quite so dramatic.”

Asami thought of her father, whom she hadn’t spoken to in... she couldn’t remember their last conversation, actually. She couldn’t recall being around any of them long enough to witness any drama. “I can’t imagine my stepmother flinging chicken at anyone’s head, if that’s what you mean.” Though the visual amused her; Asami wasn’t sure that Misaki knew how to throw anything besides a dinner party.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a little scary that I can totally imagine my mom doing it.” Korra laughed. “I hope these chicken-tossing tendencies don’t run in the family.”

“I have trouble picturing you mad,” Asami said.

“Hmm,” Korra said, thoughtful again. “I guess I just bottle things up. I tend to avoid confrontation. I think that’s why I stayed with Mako for so long: The fear of the dreaded breakup conversation.”

The topic of breakups brought Opal and Bolin’s fight to Asami’s mind. The thought that they could be over at any second depressed her. Did love just vanish into thin air? Could she wake up one morning and not care about Korra at all?

“You okay?”

Asami forced a smile in her direction. “Yeah, sorry—“

An unfamiliar sound interrupted the rest of her sentence and they both turned to look in the direction of its source.

“Sorry, that’s my phone,” Korra said. “I can just let it go to voice mail.”

“I don’t mind,” Asami said, knowing she was partly curious to know who it was, which only made her feel nosy.

Korra seemed to battle with the decision to answer or not, but she eventually made her way over to get the phone out of her bag. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d call.”

Asami focused on eating, doing her best to appear uninterested.

“No, I totally get what that’s like,” Korra was saying quietly, though Asami could still hear. “It’s fine... I had fun too...” 

It was Adam, Asami could tell, and she felt a painful surge of desperation. She could, at that moment, envision herself striding across the room, pushing Korra against the wall and kissing her with everything she had, trying to squeeze one more second of hope out of this impossible situation.

“Oh, my God!” Korra yelled suddenly, and Asami looked over, instantly panicked that Korra had somehow read her mind. But Korra was smiling into the phone. “How did you manage that?”

Asami took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotions. She would not let jealousy drive her insane. She had to accept that Korra was with Adam. Period. Roll the credits.

“Of course I want to go,” Korra said, sounding more enthusiastic than Asami had ever heard her, “trust me, I’d cancel any other plans if I had them.”

Angrily, Asami speared a defenseless shrimp and popped it into her mouth. Of course she’d want to go. Of course she’d cancel any other plans. And Asami’s vow not to let jealousy get to her flew briskly out the window.

“See you then,” Korra said, and Asami heard the phone snap shut.

Do not do anything idiotic, Asami instructed herself, because she felt very much on the brink of throwing herself at Korra and begging for a chance. Korra approached and Asami pretended to concentrate on the food, worried that one look at the artist would unravel what was left of her self-control.

“I’m sorry about that,” Korra said, dropping her phone on the table and reclaiming her spot on the couch. “There’s a gallery opening tomorrow night and Jennifer Myers Quinn is the featured artist and Adam, somehow, managed to snag an invitation and asked me to be his plus one. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love her work; and to be in the same room with her, oh, my God.”

Korra sounded so excited that Asami couldn’t help but smile, and then, while trying to suppress thoughts of stabbing Adam with a plastic fork, she remembered something. “Jennifer Myers Quinn?” Frowning, Asami put the food down on the table and headed to the kitchen counter to look through the invitations her thoughtful publicist had sent her way.

There, toward the top of the pile, was an invitation to witness and experience the unveiling of Jennifer Myer Quinn’s “breathtaking” new collection. She’d paused at the invitation when she’d first seen it, thinking Korra might love to go, and regretting the fact that she couldn’t invite her. Showing up with Korra as her guest was out of the question. She stared at the invitation, thinking. “I’m going to that,” she said after a second, knowing, as she said it, that it was a stupid and selfish idea. She handed the invitation to Korra. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

If possible, Korra looked even more excited. “What do you know? Small world.” She looked at the invitation and bit her lip. “I’m going to have to skip class tomorrow and buy a new dress. This looks fancy.”

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful,” Asami said, before she could edit herself. That wasn’t at all what she’d meant to say.

Korra looked up, surprise written across her face. Then she smiled. “I’m pretty clueless when it comes to fashion, actually. I think I’ll have Megan go with me, though. She’ll make me look amazing. I swear, she has special powers or something.”

“I’ll have to find myself one of her, then.”

“I don’t think you need any help with looking amazing.”

***

Had she really spoken those words? Korra wondered. Had she actually told Asami that she thought she looked amazing? And why not, she’d already called her perfect. Why not keep adding fuel to the fire of potential awkwardness? Next she’d start tossing embarrassing confessions into the air. So, I’ve been picturing you naked a lot, for example. Or, better yet: So, sometimes I fantasize about running my tongue up your perfectly toned stomach. Her heart beat erratically now and she picked up her glass of water in the hopes of swallowing down her embarrassment. When she felt confident enough to look at Asami, she found the actress staring back at her. Feeling defensive, she said, “What? Surely, that’s not the first time someone’s said that to you.”

“No, I suppose not,” Asami said.

And don’t call me Shirley, Korra added silently in her head, because lines from movies had an insidious way of floating into her brain at inopportune times. And she was almost surprised that Asami hadn’t said it, because Asami had to have seen Airplane! at least as many times as Korra had. And if she hadn’t, then surely that fact needed to be remedied as fast as humanly possible. She wondered if asking Asami to watch a movie with her sometime would sound too much like asking her out on a real date; and then decided she didn’t care. “Please tell me you’ve seen Airplane!”

Asami smiled, as if the abrupt change in topic didn’t seem at all random. “I thought maybe you’d think I was a dork if I said anything.”

“Such wasted opportunity,” Korra said, shaking her head, relieved that Asami had seen it, and disappointed that it meant she didn’t get to introduce her to it. At least they’d managed to move away from the ‘amazing’ comment. She looked around, trying to find something else to talk about. They could keep talking about movies, Korra supposed, but that seemed too generic a topic. She spotted the pages of a screenplay on the table behind the food. “Is that the script for the film?” She couldn’t remember the name of it; no matter how many times Kuvira mentioned it.

“That’s the one.”

“May I? Kuvira walks around with it like a protective shield. I’ve not managed to pry her hands free of it yet.”

Asami laughed, and stood up to retrieve the screenplay. “I’m sure I was like that once,” she said.

Summer’s Dance, Korra read off the front page. She hated that title. And she wasn’t sure if it was because Taylor had come up with it or because she really did hate it. She flipped through the pages, scanning the words without really reading them. “Do you know all your lines already?”

“I think so.”

“So, if I read a random line, you’d know what the next one would be?”

“If it’s mine, probably. Why, are you challenging me?”

“Maybe.” Korra smiled and turned on the couch so she was facing Asami. She cleared her throat. “Your armpits taste like candy corn.”

Asami snatched the script from her hands. “It does not say that.”

Korra giggled and grabbed it back. “That was part of the test.”

“I would never be in a movie with lines like, ‘Your armpits taste like candy corn.’”

“Oh please, you starred in a film called Seabord Cyborg, which had way worse lines than that!”

“It terrifies me that you actually watched that,” Asami said, sounding amused.

“I wanted to know what a ‘seabord’ was, which is the only reason I kept watching.” But mostly, you were really hot in it, even though you were only like sixteen, which must mean I’ve turned into some sort of pervert in addition to everything else. “Which, by the way, was never actually explained.”

“It was a type of genetically-enhanced plankton designed to take over the world,” Asami said, as if it was obvious. “And then, you know, it mutated.”

“Into a cyborg.” Korra was trying not to laugh, but she was smiling.

“Yes, but there was a very good reason for that.”

“Right... because it was magical.”

“Right!” Asami grinned. “I can’t believe you paid enough attention to get that.”

It was one of your scenes, Korra thought. “The point is you can’t claim you’d never be in a movie with lines about candy corn armpits. You just can’t.”

“Okay, fine. You win.”

“Good,” Korra said, pleased with herself. What’s my reward, she wanted to ask, but there was no way to say that without sounding flirtatious and she wasn’t quite brave enough for that.

She looked down at the script, trying to find an actual line of dialogue to test Asami with. “Your things are in the bedroom,” she read, and looked up to see that Asami was looking at her strangely.

“I didn’t come for my things.”

Korra looked down to confirm that this was right. And then continued. “What’d you come for then?”

Asami said nothing, and Korra looked up, ready to tease. “Can’t remember your line?”

“I don’t really have a line there...”

Korra looked down again to see what Asami meant, and found, instead of dialogue, a couple of lines of text describing the action that should follow. She swallowed, and then looked up, conjuring a moment of bravery that might only last long enough to say, “I believe you’re supposed to kiss me, then.” She held her breath, feeling that she had, with those words, actually admitted to picturing Asami naked, to fantasizing about her body, and to everything else she’d been feeling lately. Because why else would she say it?

The look on Asami’s face was undecipherable, but then the actress smiled and said, “Actually, Samantha kisses Elizabeth, so technically, it’d be you kissing me.”

There was, Korra thought, a challenge in Asami’s tone, as if she were really saying, I know you’d never do it. So haha! And Korra felt a rush of indignation, fueled further by the smug look on Asami’s face. Oh, you think you know me so well, Ms. Sato.

Korra picked up the script once more, reading over the text, feeling a strange sense of determination to prove that she was not freaked out by the prospect of kissing a woman, because she had a sneaking suspicion that that’s what this was about. “Just checking to see if I need to use tongue or not.” And the look of shock that passed across Asami’s face was incredibly gratifying.

***

She’s kidding, Asami told herself. She’s not seriously going to kiss me. But she eyed Korra nervously now. She was starting to think that maybe Korra would kiss her after all. Okay, so what if she does? It’s not like it means anything. But Asami knew that was a lie. Of course it would mean something; to her, at least. And she couldn’t figure out how they’d gone from discussing magical plankton to this.

“We’re supposed to be closer to each other,” Korra said, and Asami thought she detected a sudden hint of shyness in her voice.

When the girl of your dreams wants to kiss you... you let her, right? Asami tried not to freeze as Korra slid closer. “You take this testing of lines very seriously,” she said, trying to hide how nervous she felt.

“I live with an actress,” Korra said, as if that explained everything. “So, I ask the question, and we stare longingly into each other’s eyes, and then I kiss you?”

“It sounds so romantic when you say it that way.” Asami wondered how far Korra planned to go with this. She decided to play along, “But yes, and then I strip you naked and ravish you on the kitchen table.”

Korra looked only briefly surprised, before saying, “You don’t have a kitchen table.”

“Coffee table, then.” Was it wrong that all of this sounded incredibly appealing? Was it wrong that she was getting turned on? What am I doing?

“Coffee table it is,” Korra said. “Ready?”

Before Asami could figure out a way to properly back out of... whatever this was that they’d somehow gotten into, there came the merciful sound of a knock at the door. Oh, thank God, was all she could think, as she walked over to answer it. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting you,” Bolin said, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug. “Miss me?”

Asami hugged him quickly and then stepped back to inspect him. She’d not heard from him in days and she’d half-expected to learn that he’d been depressed over the fight, alone in his apartment, overdosing on ice cream. She was relieved to see that he looked fine; better than fine, actually. “You look good.”

“Why do you sound surprised?” Bolin stepped into the apartment and closed the door.

Asami hadn’t forgotten that Korra was still in the apartment, so she ignored his question and led her second guest into the living room. “Korra, I’d like to introduce you to Bolin. Bolin, this is Korra.”

“Wow,” Bolin said, “I can totally see what Asami sees in you.”

I’m so going to kill you. Asami tried sending the message telepathically, but Bolin was too busy checking Korra out to notice.

“Uh,” Korra said. “I can totally see what she sees in you... too.” She threw a questioning glance at Asami, which Asami answered with a look that she hoped said, “He’s insane, ignore him.”

“Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” Bolin said, remembering his manners suddenly, or at least pretending to.

“Not really, Asami was just about to strip me naked and ravish me on the coffee table,” Korra said, and smiled smugly at Asami.

She didn’t just say that, Asami thought.

“Please don’t let me stop you,” Bolin said, and shot Asami a look that could’ve read any number of ways, ranging from, “What did I miss?” to “Where’s the popcorn?”

Korra laughed and then said, “Asami, where’s your restroom?”

“Door behind the stairs,” Asami said. She waited until Korra had disappeared behind the closed door and then slapped Bolin’s arm. “Are you crazy?” she whispered.

He rubbed his arm and laughed. “She’s funny,” he said. “Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?”

Asami glanced nervously at the bathroom door, worried it would open at any moment. “Nothing’s changed, and I need you to behave.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He winked. “Where are you staying?”

“With Opal,” he said.

“I thought you guys were fighting?”

“Oh yeah, we were. But it seemed criminal to deny ourselves the mind-blowing sex while I was in town.”

“Never mind. What are you doing tomorrow night? Are you free? I need you to be free. You need to be my date to a gallery opening.”

Bolin grinned. “Oh the press is going to have fun with that. ‘Asami and Bolin Together Again!’ They’re going to think you stole me back. And, sure, I’m free. And does the reason we’re attending this shindig have anything to do with a certain K-O-R-R-A?”

“She knows how to spell her name,” Asami whispered, smacking his arm again. “And yes. Is that obsessive and stalkerish?”

“Totally. What time should I pick you up?”

“Seven.” 

“Cool,” he said, then, as the door to the bathroom opened, he stated, loudly, “She thinks my penis is too big. That’s why she hates me right now.”

Asami narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, I thought she said it was because of that weird fungus she found near your—“

“Korra!” Bolin said, interrupting her. “Welcome back. I’m going to leave you lovely ladies to your coffee table adventures. I just wanted to tell you, Asami, that Opal hired me as your assistant until you find a suitable replacement. Isn’t that great? I’m going to be around you all the time; night and day.”

“Tell Opal she sucks.”

“Just one of her many great skills,” Bolin said, grinning. “Korra, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you again sometime. Asami, I’ll see you tomorrow. No need to walk me to the door. I’ll find my way. Have fun. Good night. Adios!” And then he was gone.

“So that’s Bolin,” Korra said, after a moment. “He always seemed so much...”

“Saner?” Asami supplied.

Korra smiled at her. “I was going to say ‘taller.’” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “So, you’re hiring a new assistant?”

“Apparently,” she said. “Why, are you interested?”

“No, not me,” Korra said, and laughed. “But, um... I know someone that might be qualified. I mean, if you’re taking applications or whatever.”

Please don’t let it be Adam. She was afraid to ask. “Sure. Have them call Opal. You have her number?”

“I do.”

“Great,” Asami said, and felt suddenly awkward, remembering where they’d been before Bolin had arrived. She looked around for something to say.

“Shall we clean up?” Korra suggested. 

“Yes!” It came out sounding far more enthusiastic than she meant it to, but Korra only smiled at her.

And then they both proceeded to ignore the screenplay on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY. Just hold on a little bit longer. 
> 
> Also, as I mentioned awhile ago, I had to take out/edit some aspects of this story. This chapter was filled with lots of those subplots, so it’s highly likely that I made a few mistakes. I apologize if some parts are a little choppy. In the original story Korra had a brother and a step dad, and Opal and Bolin’s characters actually broke up. I absolutely could not let bopal break up! 
> 
> P.S. I left a comment on another fic I like, so hopefully the author doesn’t turn me down this time. 🤞  
> Feel free to drop fic suggestions in the comments!


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“The thing is,” Korra said, as she followed Megan around the clothing store, “when I’m with her I feel like... nothing else matters, you know?”

“Mmhmm,” Megan said, handing Korra a dress to add to the growing pile in her arms.

“But then,” Korra continued, adjusting the weight of the clothes so they wouldn’t fall, “when I’m not with her... when I’m walking home, or when I’m in bed, all the other stuff... the stuff that didn’t seem to matter before suddenly does matter. And then all I can think about is how my family is going to react. Or... or what this means in terms of me. I mean, I don’t want to go crazy over what to label myself. I don’t even want to label myself. I just know that I want her, you know?” She paused as she noticed a lady giving her a strange look. “I’m trying to question my sexuality over here, do you mind?” she snapped.

The woman looked both surprised and offended, but hurried away without a word. Korra took a deep breath and looked up to find Megan smiling at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, putting an arm around her. She began steering her toward the dressing rooms. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“Thanks, that helps me a whole lot.” Megan guided her into the first available stall and slid the curtain closed behind her.

“So what’s the problem?” she asked a second later.

Korra glanced briefly at the white curtain between them as if it might contain the answer to the question. What’s the problem? “The problem,” she said, as she sorted through the clothes, “is that I don’t know what I want.”

“Korra, you’ve got a date with Adam tonight and all you’ve done is talk about this mystery girl of yours. It’s pretty obvious to me what you want. Is she going to be wherever it is you’re going?”

Korra bit her lip as she began to undress. “Yes,” she said.

“So you’re really meaning to look hot for her.”

“Yes.” There was no sense in denying it. She took a black nylon dress from the pile and slipped it over her head; the material hugged her body like a glove. “Does that make me an awful person?”

“No, but it makes you an awful date.”

Korra slid the curtain open so that Megan could inspect her. “Well?”

She looked her up and down and smiled. “Perfect. Don’t try on anything else.” She grabbed her by the waist and turned her around so she was facing the mirror. “You have nice arms and legs.”

“Are you hitting on me?”

Megan giggled and rested her chin on Korra's shoulder. “Korra,” she said, “if you like her, then at least let her know. Don’t worry about all of the other stuff right now.”

“I can’t just tell her,” she said, horrified by the thought.

“Then at least let her know you’re not straight.” She paused. “Unless you’re still thinking you are straight...”

“No,” Korra said, thoughts of Asami flashing through her mind. “I mean, I don’t know for sure because my experience with women is entirely limited to the thoughts in my head, but those thoughts have definitely not been straight.”

“Well, then, I recommend telling her that much at the very least. And you really need to stop leading Adam on. ‘Cause even if you sleep with him and enjoy it, that’s not going to make you any less not-straight.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Megan said, stepping back. “Love the dress; shoes are next.”

“Wait,” Korra said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s get some coffee first. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh no, I’m not the mystery girl am I?”

Korra smiled. “No, but how would you like a chance to be Asami Sato’s personal assistant?”

***

Catching Taylor alone took longer than Asami anticipated. Light chatter and conversation rose up the moment the director dismissed them for the day, and Asami was forced to participate out of politeness. She liked her fellow cast members. She found their uninhibited enthusiasm contagious. Kuvira, especially, was intriguing, for many reasons that did not all have to do with Korra. But there was still the barrier Asami erected around people; the persistent fear that they might see the truth. And so she remained friendly but guarded as they asked her questions, worried that her emotional distance would make her seem cold.

Taylor passed by on her way out of the meeting room and Asami excused herself from the group to follow after the director. “Do you have a second?”

“For you, I have almost a second and a half.” Taylor smiled and led them to her office. “Sorry for the mess,” she said, as she pushed open the door.

Asami walked in, taking in the piles of paper scattered across the desk and the myriad of neon Post-It notes hanging from the walls. “It’s like Office Depot exploded in here.”

Taylor laughed and leaned against the edge of the desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Are you asking me out?”

Asami hesitated, the words sounding entirely too formal for her comfort. She withdrew the nightclub invitation from her back pocket and handed it to Taylor. “Any chance you were thinking of being there tonight?”

Taylor let out a surprised laugh. “A couple of my friends mentioned it to me over the weekend. I told them I’d pass. Were you thinking of being there?”

“I promised I would be.”

“Well, then I’m sure I could be persuaded to change my mind.”

Taylor’s smile made Asami want to sigh. This right here was the sure thing; a beautiful woman who was clearly interested in her, who would undoubtedly respect her need for secrecy. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about Korra? Why couldn’t she stop wondering what their kiss might have been like, had it happened? The question had kept her up half the night. But Taylor was there now, smiling at her in a way that made Asami want to toss aside her reservations and simply take a chance. She smiled back. “How might I persuade you?”

“Well, you might, for example, tell me what you’ll be wearing.”

“I’ve been saving my very sexy penguin outfit for a special occasion.”

Taylor laughed and shook her head, looking down at the ground for a moment. “That does sound incredibly appealing.”

“You definitely don’t want to miss it.”

“Then I guess it’s a date.”

Yes, I guess it is, Asami thought, feeling a momentary pang of sadness that she quickly pushed aside.

***

“Just to be clear,” Megan said, staring at the piece of paper Korra had given her, “If I call this number I’ll be magically transported into Asami Sato’s presence?”

Korra sipped her coffee and shook her head. “No. You call that number, and you find out what you have to do next. I guarantee nothing!”

“I can’t help but think this is a prank of some sort,” Megan said, but she clutched the paper like a lifeline. “How did you get this?”

“I have mafia connections,” Korra whispered. “My father is an eighth Italian, after all.”

“I’m serious.”

Korra giggled and looked around the coffee stand before turning back to him. She’d thought long and hard about whether or not it was wise to give her Opal’s number. Did she really want Megan to be Asami’s personal assistant? Not that the odds of that happening were necessarily high. Korra was sure Asami had plenty of candidates lined up and she had no way of knowing whether it was something Megan would want to do. Still. Why not? “I told you that she’d liked my paintings and might hire me to make art for her apartment, remember?”

She looked at her blankly and then said, “You were serious about that?”

“I told you I was!”

“So what you’re saying is that you’ve been hanging around Asami Sato all of this time and you didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re best friends or anything,” Korra said quickly, worried that Megan would somehow piece everything together. “It’s not like we hang out.” And eat Chinese food together, and shop for couches and almost kiss... “There wasn’t much to say, really.”

“But you’ve met her?” 

“Well, yeah.” Korra was beginning to panic. She hadn’t expected the questions. She should have expected them, of course, but she hadn’t, and now she was certain that she would accidentally say the wrong thing and the identity of her secret crush would come tumbling out. “Sort of. I mean, in passing.”

Megan leaned closer and smiled. “What’s she like?”

“She’s uh...” Korra circled through all of the adjectives she could think of: gorgeous, funny, smart, warm, charming. But none of those seemed appropriate. What else? She likes to kill her coffee with milk and sugar and lives in a sauna and somehow thinks shopping for furniture online makes perfect sense. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “She seemed nice. You know, nicer... than I thought she would be.”

“Nice?” Megan looked disappointed. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Korra said, thinking ‘nice’ was a perfectly good and neutral way to describe the actress. “You can always call that number and see if you can’t find out for yourself what she’s like.”

Megan looked at the number in question and took out her cell phone. “Then I shall.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

“Try not to mention me,” she said quickly.

“So I got this number... where? Out of thin air?” Megan was already dialing.

“Pretend you’re psychic.”

“Shh, it’s ringing.”

Korra held her breath as she waited.

“Good afternoon,” Megan said, her voice suddenly deep and professional, “My name is Megan Walker and I’m calling about the personal assistant position....”

***

“Have I mentioned,” Bolin said, hours later as they walked into the gallery, “how much I admire your ability to juggle two different women on the same night?”

Asami tried hard not to glare at him as they made their way through the clusters of people. “I’m not juggling anyone.”

“Stalking Korra at an art gallery at 7:30PM followed by a night of drinks and flirting with Taylor; sounds like juggling to me.” He put his arm around her. “I missed this,” he whispered in her ear. “Faking a relationship with you is so much more fun.”

Asami ignored him and focused instead on scanning the crowd for signs of Korra. Being there was stupid, she knew this, and yet she couldn’t help herself. “This is really sad, isn’t it? When did I become the sort of person that follows straight girls on their dates?”

“Probably around the same time you fell in love with one.”

Asami didn’t bother arguing that point. She wouldn’t admit it, but she wouldn’t deny it.

They paused in front of a painting of a deer in the woods, and she said, “I wonder which of the paintings here she likes most.”

“So you can buy it for her?”

So I can share in her pleasure of it, she thought, but it seemed too pathetic a thing to share aloud. “This is stupid,” she said, shaking her head, “we should go.”

“And miss out on all the thinly veiled awkwardness? I don’t think so. Besides, she’s here, and leaving would be rude.”

“She’s here?” Asami felt rising panic combined with nervous anticipation. She didn’t want to see Korra on her date... but she wanted to see Korra. Being in the same room with her would be enough. They wouldn’t even have to speak. “Where?”

“I think she’s the one making out with the Brad Pitt-lookalike over there.”

“What?” Asami turned in the direction Bolin motioned, but saw nothing remotely close to what he’d described. And then she heard him chuckle. “I really hate you.”

Bolin was grinning. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t nice.”

“You go right ahead and be evil,” Asami said, accepting a glass of wine from a passing waiter. “When you fall in love, I mean really fall in love, with Opal for example, I’m going to remember all of this.”

“I’m not going to fall in love with Opal. Especially when she doesn’t agree with my movie ideas,” he said smugly. “I am officially immune.”

“Yeah, I thought I was immune, too, and now look at me. One day, when you least expect it, the girl of your dreams is going to waltz into your life and I’m going to be right there to go, ‘I told you so.’”

“You keep thinking that. In the meantime, the girl of your dreams just walked in.”

Asami froze at the words, forcing herself not to turn around. It would be enough to be in the same room, she told herself. Knowing she was there was enough.

“Is that her boyfriend?”

“I don’t know; I’m trying not to look too obvious here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you blend right into a crowd, Asami. Especially in that sexy red number you’re wearing. Anyway, I don’t see what you’re so worried about. You’re much hotter than he is. Your breasts are nicer, anyway.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Did she see you?”

“I don’t think so, but she’s looking around. Let’s go mingle a little closer to them, shall we?”

“No!” Asami said quickly. “I don’t want to intrude on her date.”

“It’s not intruding. It’s called being friendly stalkers. Come on.” He took her hand and led her through the crowd.

She would say hello, Asami decided, a simple, casual hello. And then she would leave and that would be that. Korra would be free to enjoy the rest of her date and Asami would only have to feel minimally ashamed and embarrassed for being there. But her convictions trailed away the moment she spotted Korra. She was wearing a gorgeous blue dress that perfectly matched her sparkling eyes. Asami’s breath caught at the sight of her. Her steps halted and Bolin stopped to look at her.

“What’s wrong?”

It shouldn’t hurt this much to look at another person, Asami thought. “We should go,” she told Bolin, but her gaze invariably drifted back and then it was too late. Korra was looking at her, smiling at her, even, which somehow made it worse. But Asami smiled back and started toward her, meanwhile searching for a way to push aside her attraction; to exchange yearning for disinterest. And still, her mind was filled only with the thought that Korra looked beautiful.

Adam, or at least the guy Asami took to be Adam, blinked at her in surprise. Asami looked at him quickly, trying to find an obvious, fatal flaw, but what she found was a normal-looking guy; an all-around normal guy that would likely provide Korra with a normal relationship and a normal life. And that was more than Asami could ever promise. She shook his hand when Korra introduced them, hoping her smile was friendly enough. She didn’t hate him, as much as a part of her wished to. She merely envied him the freedom to love without fear. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

There, Asami thought, she’d said hello. Now she’d politely excuse herself and drag Bolin with her. “Bolin and I were just—“

“About to get more wine,” Bolin interrupted, holding up his empty glass. “And maybe discreetly hit the buffet. Can I bring anything back for anyone?”

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” Adam said, finally breaking out of whatever haze Asami’s presence had put him in. “I’ll get you a drink,” he said to Korra.

Asami watched Bolin walk away with Adam firmly in tow, and she decided she’d kill him later. She turned back to Korra and searched her brain for an appropriate thought. “Having fun on your date?” she asked.

Korra glanced in the direction Adam had gone and seemed to relax. “Yeah, but I’m thinking this will be the last one.”

“Why?” Asami tried not to look as surprised as she felt. “Did something happen?” She didn’t know whether to feel hopeful or fearful. If he’d hurt Korra, Asami would kill him. Or at least hire someone to kill him.

But Korra was shaking her head. “No, I just don’t see it going anywhere. It doesn’t seem fair to keep dragging it out.” She looked around. “I probably shouldn’t even be here with him. It’s selfish.”

Yes, it was selfish for Asami to feel as happy as she did, but she couldn’t help it. “But you’re here,” she said, “and the art is beautiful.” You’re beautiful, is what she really meant.

Korra seemed to brighten at the mention of art and she turned toward the painting on the wall. “I love this one,” she said.

Asami regarded the painting and its bright, warm colors swirling around the canvas. “It’s cheerful,” she said, thinking it a shallow thing to say, but saying it anyway.

“I know, I think it’s like a jolt of happiness.” Korra smiled. “I can’t imagine looking at this and not feeling instantly happy. I’m definitely buying a print.”

But Asami could do better than that. She took note of the name and filed it away for later.

“What are you doing after this?”

“I have a date,” she said, trying to sound confident, though she felt mostly uncertain. “Sort of.”

“A ‘sort of’ date?”

“I’m afraid a ‘sort of’ date is all I can really manage at this stage in my life. We’re just meeting up at a club. I’m not quite sure how much of a date it’s really going to turn out to be.” She paused to look at Korra. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“What are you doing after this?”

Korra looked over her shoulder to make sure Adam wasn’t anywhere near. “Ending things with Adam, and that’s about it.”

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound fun.”

“No, I suppose not as fun as a ‘sort of’ date.” Korra smiled at her and shrugged. “It’s my own fault. I thought I could grow to be more interested in him, but it’s sort of impossible when I’m already interested in someone else.”

“Someone else?” There was someone else? How had she not known about someone else?

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s interested.”

She? Did she just say ‘she?!’

“And we’re back,” said Bolin, appearing suddenly at her side with a small plate of cheese in his hand.

Asami met his gaze and gave him a look that she hoped conveyed a forceful, “Not now!”

But Bolin was oblivious. He held a small cube of cheese to her lips and said, “Try this one, you’ll love it.”

She glared at him, but accepted his offering. She did love it, or would have loved it had she not been so distracted. She looked at Korra, who was busy thanking Adam for the glass of wine he’d brought her. “You have the worst timing ever,” she whispered in Bolin’s ear.

“Do I? Maybe I’ll add that to my resume.”

Asami sipped her wine and silently replayed her conversation with Korra. She’d heard Korra say ‘she’ but each time she thought back, the pronoun became increasingly muddled. Perhaps her desire was causing auditory hallucinations. Korra couldn’t have said ‘she.’

Could she?

***

Korra tried to keep her breath steady as she smiled at Adam and took the drink he offered.

She’d give anything to know what Asami was thinking. It had been stupid to tell her now of all times and here of all places but it had come tumbling out all the same. Now the confession hung awkwardly between them, and Korra didn’t know when she’d get another chance to bring it up.

She risked a glance in Asami’s direction and felt a momentary sense of sadness at the sight of Asami and Bolin together. They looked so perfect at each other’s side that it was hard to believe they weren’t a real couple. But more than that, Korra couldn’t imagine herself in Bolin’s place. She’d never get to stand that close to Asami at an art gallery, or take her hand. Nothing real could ever come of these feelings.

And still, she couldn’t keep her gaze from traveling down the length of Asami’s body, over the silky dark-red fabric of the dress which clung to every curve with deliberate precision.

Looking at Asami made her ache. It made her stomach clench and her breath catch and it seemed impossible that all of these things weren’t plainly written across her face.

Adam was talking, Korra realized, as his voice cut through her jumble of inappropriate thoughts. She was relieved that it wasn’t her he was addressing. She caught the tail end of a sentence that finished with, “quarterback,” and decided she was safe from having to contribute. She caught Asami’s gaze and held it. What are you thinking?

“We should leave you two to your date,” Asami said suddenly, breaking eye contact. “It was really nice meeting you, Adam.”

“Pleasure was all mine, believe me.” Adam was all smiles and Korra tried to mimic his enthusiasm as they exchanged goodbyes. “Wow. I can’t believe I was just talking to Asami Sato. She must be a big fan of art; she’s at like every gallery.”

The statement annoyed Korra and she tore her gaze away from Asami’s retreating back to look at her date. “Yeah.”

“She seems nice. I always sort of figured she’d be stuck up.”

Korra nodded and looked around the crowded gallery, trying to spot Asami, to keep track of where she’d wandered off to, but her search came up empty.

“God, I love this painting,” Adam said a moment later. She followed his gaze and smiled, instantly forgetting her annoyance. “Me too. I think I’m in love with it.”

“Lucky painting.” He grinned at her. “Too bad it costs more than my tuition.”

“Seriously. I still can’t believe we’re here. Have you seen Jennifer Myer Quinn yet?”

“I overheard some people saying that she wasn’t coming.”

“Really?”

Adam smiled. “I also heard she’s a bit of a snob.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like crowds,” Korra suggested. “Or... cheese.”

“Perhaps she’s afraid of cheese.”

Korra laughed, but her gaze strayed again, darting from one strange face to another until she spotted the one she was searching for. There were people blocking most of the view, but Korra could see well enough to note that Asami was on the phone, smiling and then laughing, and then suddenly looking directly at her. Embarrassed, she looked away and back at Adam. Looking at him felt safe. Looking at him didn’t make her miserable and frustrated.

He smiled at her. “You look beautiful tonight, in case I hadn’t mentioned it.”

He had, but she smiled back at him anyway, feeling a mixture of disappointment and regret.

Liking him would’ve been easier; so much easier. But no, she had to suddenly dig out her inner lesbian and put it in front of Asami Sato. She couldn’t have started small. With that cute, short-haired girl in her Art & Contemporary Culture class, for example; she was probably gay. But that would’ve been too easy and Korra didn’t do easy. Korra liked to shoot for the moon; or the stars, in this case.

“Ready?”

“Hmm?” Korra regarded Adam. “Sorry?”

“To walk around.”

“Yes, absolutely. Let’s walk around.” She risked one final look in Asami’s direction to find the actress gone. She stifled the urge to look for her, and followed her date to the next art display.

***

“What if she did say ‘she’?” Asami shouted the question near Bolin’s ear in an attempt to be heard over the dance music.

“You’re obsessing,” he shouted back. He took her hand and led her through the throng of bodies gyrating to the music. Upstairs, they reached the sanctuary of the VIP area. “Jesus, it’s loud down there.”

“You’re getting old,” Asami teased and slid into the first available booth she saw. Through the glass windows beside her she looked down at the mobs of people set aglow by pulsating neon lights.

“Am not!.”

“But you don’t act a day over twelve.”

A waitress appeared and launched cheerfully into a well-rehearsed introduction. Asami waited patiently for the girl to be done before placing an order for her usual drink.

“I’ll have a dirty martini and maybe your number, if it’s available,” Bolin said with a slight stutter.

Asami sighed as the waitress cast nervous glances in her direction.

“We’re currently seeing other people,” Bolin explained. “She doesn’t seem to think I’m man enough for her because I wrote her a love ballad, and because sometimes I cry after we make love.”

“Uhm, sorry, I have a boyfriend,” said the blonde. “But I’ll go get you those drinks.”

“Smooth,” Asami said, laughing. “And stop this. It’s how rumors get started.”

Bolin sat back. “Rumors are good for your career.”

“Yeah, they fill my life with joy. Besides, I thought you were sleeping with Opal.”

“Sleeping with Opal, yes; married to Opal, no.”

“So you’re just going to sleep around?”

“Yes and why shouldn’t I?”

“STDs, look it up.”

“Orgasm, try one.”

Asami crumpled a cocktail napkin into a ball and threw it at his head.

“Yeah, that’s mature.” He looked around. “So, when’s your date getting here?”

“I don’t know. Nothing was really set in stone.” Asami sighed. “If Korra said ‘she’—“

“Blah, blah, blah...”

“If she said she, then... that means... that means that maybe I have a chance.”

Bolin cocked his head to the side and leaned forward. “Asami, if Korra is even remotely gay, I’d say you have more than just a chance.”

“Really?”

“I know no one has ever told you this, but you’re really hot. So if she likes girls, odds are that you’re at the top of her list.”

The thought was uplifting, but also depressing. “It’s just... I don’t want her to think that I’m hot. Well, I mean, yes, of course I do. But not just that, you know? I don’t want to just have sex with her.”

“Well, if you don’t want to, can I?”

She kicked him under the table. “That’s not even remotely funny.”

“Ow.” Bolin frowned at her. “I was just kidding, no need to get violent. I would never go after Korra.” His gaze wandered to the door. “But her, maybe.”

“That’s Taylor.” Asami waved her over.

“Of course it is. Please have sex with one of these women, Asami. Please.” He smiled widely as Taylor approached. “Ignore me, I’m not really here.”

“Bolin,” Taylor said, smiling. “I’m a fan of your work.”

“No one’s a fan of my work, except my mother, and that’s because she thinks I made Titanic.”

Taylor laughed and sat beside Asami, smiling at her as she did so. To Bolin, she said, “I honestly thought Acorns from Jupiter was brilliant.”

Asami snickered and Bolin smiled brightly. “That movie is how Asami and I met, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Taylor glanced briefly at Asami. “How did that happen?”

“Well,” Bolin began, pausing to accept the drinks the waitress brought over. He waited until Taylor had placed her own order to continue, “it was playing at a really small, obscure film festival in San Francisco, and I was probably the only person in the theater during its showing. And then she walked in and sat down. And I thought, ‘Wow, she’s hot.’ So, after a short while, I moved to sit next to her, and asked how she was enjoying the movie, and she was like, “It’s quite possibly the worst movie ever, I just figured it’d be a nice place to be alone.’”

Taylor laughed. “Nice.”

“I was, of course, offended and told her it was my film and tried to explain the finer points of my brilliance. She was entirely unapologetic and made fun of the movie the whole way through. Naturally, I fell madly in love with her right then and there and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed the movie,” Taylor said.

Bolin turned to Asami. “Marry her.” He grabbed his drink and stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’m going to go pretend I have things to do somewhere else.”

Taylor laughed and moved to the other side of the table so she was sitting across from Asami. “So.”

“So,” Asami echoed, feeling awkward now that Bolin wasn’t there to lighten the mood.

“I brought a couple of friends. They’re down there somewhere.” Taylor motioned to the dance floor below. “You can meet them later. Unless of course you just wanna get out of here now and go back to your place?”

Asami swallowed nervously and Taylor laughed at her.

“Relax, Asami.” She thanked the waitress and picked up her newly delivered drink. “I don’t even know what we’re doing here exactly.”

“We’re having drinks.” She smiled and willed herself to relax. Taylor looked beautiful and that didn’t help at all. There was a part of her, however small, that was intrigued by the notion of going back to her apartment with Taylor, of being, if only for one night, someone other than herself. It would be easy enough, she thought. It was, after all, what she did best.

“That we are.” Taylor sipped her drink thoughtfully and said, “You know, I think I’ve figured it out.”

“It being...?”

“You. Well, your reluctance, really.” Taylor smiled and put down the glass. “I thought at first it was because of your career; that you were just trying to be careful. Then I thought it was simply that you were shy. And then... I met Korra.”

Asami froze at the words, feeling a rising wave of panic. “What about her?”

“I saw you guys talking at the party.” Taylor was silent for a second, studying Asami’s face. “I think it’s the first time I have ever seen you look truly happy. And it occurred to me that maybe you simply had feelings for someone else.”

Jesus, did everyone know? She looked down at the table, captivated by the red liquid in her glass.

“So, I’m right?”

“Yeah.” Asami looked up and nodded.

“So this between us is ...?”

Asami sighed and looked back out at the dance floor, feeling guilty and depressed. “It’s me trying to get over it, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Taylor said, and looked sincere as she smiled. “I’ve kind of enjoyed this strange back and forth thing between us. It’s been oddly refreshing.”

Asami didn’t know what to say next. Was that it? Her sort of date had ended before it had even begun, and she felt mostly relieved. Taylor had figured it out. She was glad, and yet it worried her. Who else had seen her with Korra? Who else had put it all together?

“Do you want to dance?” Taylor asked suddenly.

“Dance?” Asami had expected Taylor to get up and leave. She wanted to stay?

“Yeah, you know... your body... my body... music?” Taylor finished her drink. “You want me to distract you. I’m more than happy to comply.”

Asami glanced at the crowd of people below. She wasn’t sure there was room for two more bodies down there. But... “Sure,” she said. “Let’s dance.”

***

“So,” Adam said, as Korra’s building came up, “I had fun tonight.”

Korra counted the spots of dried chewing gum on the sidewalk and nodded. “I did too.” She looked up at him as they came to a stop at the steps below the door. She’d officially run out of time. It was now or never. “Adam, I—“

He stopped her with a kiss, a soft, tentative kiss that startled her and left her feeling like the world’s biggest jerk. She froze as she struggled to determine whether she wanted this or not. She could sink into him; she could let him be for her what Asami never would be. She felt his lips part against her mouth and she pulled away, somewhat harshly.

Adam’s eyes betrayed confusion and hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I-“

“No,” Korra interrupted. “Don’t apologize. This is all me. You’re great. It’s just that I kind of have this... thing.”

“Thing?”

She could almost see the unspoken options flashing across his eyes: herpes, a third nipple, a penis. She quickly added, “This crush...on someone.”

“Ah.”“On a girl,” she added, because if she was going to be honest, she might as well go all the way.

He blinked in surprise. “Oh.”

“And I’ve been trying to sort of work through that, and I ended up dragging you along with me, which is awful, I know. I’m sorry.”

He stared at her, looking mostly confused. “So you’re a lesbian?”

The word sounded harsh though his tone was mainly curious. “Um.” She didn’t have an answer to the question. She had mostly questions where an answer should’ve been. “I’ve mostly just gotten as far as admitting I’m not straight. Beyond that...”

Adam looked disappointed, as if he couldn’t see a distinction between the two things and would’ve been happier to hear she was gay. “Okay.” It sounded like more of a question.

They stood in awkward silence for several seconds, and Korra struggled to think of something to add. “I’m really sorry,” was all she could come up with, and it sounded incredibly lame and unoriginal.

But he shrugged his shoulders and tried for a smile that almost looked genuine. “It’s okay. I’m the one that pursued you. Besides, you didn’t seem too keen on the six children idea...”

Korra smiled, hesitantly, afraid that he’d snap at her for assuming things were okay. “I’m sure you’ll find someone who is.”

He nodded and looked up at the building. “Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He stood there, looking uncertain. “Well, um, I hope things work out with you and um... whoever.”

Korra didn’t know how to comment on that, so she simply nodded.

He started to walk away and then turned back. “Is it Kuvira?”

Korra would’ve laughed if he hadn’t looked so serious. “Kuvira? No. Definitely not Kuvira.”

“Just checking.” He smiled and said, “See you around, Korra.”

“Thanks for tonight,” she said, feeling a desperate need to say something more. “I really did have fun.”

“Me too.”

She watched him walk away, knowing she’d done the right thing. And with that came a newfound sense of determination. Tomorrow, she decided, as she stepped into her building.

Tomorrow she would tell Asami Sato how she felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH
> 
> Grab some popcorn and a box of tissues (for happy tears) cuz the next chapter is going to blow your mind!


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The lights above the elevator door lit up with each passing floor and Korra focused on the shapes of the numbers as they came to life. She didn’t remember getting here. She didn’t remember buying the two cups of coffee she was now holding. She remembered her bedroom. She remembered not being able to fall asleep. She remembered rehearsing what she would say to Asami, rearranging the words, waiting for the right combination to reveal itself.

The elevator dinged softly; another floor gone by and she still didn’t know what she would say. She could turn back; there was still time to change her mind. But then what? Did she want to go from day to day, swallowing her feelings? Wasn’t it better to put it out there and move on? She didn’t know.

She watched the numbers and willed her heart to slow down. She would do this. She would admit her feelings and face the awkwardness that would follow. She would assure Asami that it changed nothing; that they could continue to be friends. Eventually, Asami would return to California and they could resume their emails – or, more likely, lose contact altogether – and at some point, these feelings would fade or better yet, move on to someone else. But she would always have this day; the day she put her fears aside and took control of her life.

The doors opened and she stepped out, colliding almost immediately with the person standing there. She managed, somehow, to keep the coffee from spilling as she struggled to regain her balance. “I’m so sorry, I-” She froze as she looked up. It took her a second to register that it was Taylor standing there, dressed in wrinkled clothes and reeking of alcohol. Korra’s gaze flashed quickly to Asami’s door and a feeling she didn’t recognize rose up inside her, dark and overwhelming.

“Korra!” Taylor sounded as surprised as Korra felt. “Hi! I um...” She seemed to be searching for an excuse as to why she was standing there at this hour.

They’d spent the night together. That’s all Korra could think as she looked at Taylor. They spent the night together. Korra suddenly felt ill. What was the right thing to do now? Jump back in the elevator and ride down with Taylor? No, that would be too awkward. “I just wanted to ask Asami a quick question about this art project she hired me for,” she said. “Is she in?” There. That was casual. It didn’t scream, “I just came by to tell your girlfriend that I want her.”

“I think she was in the shower when I left, but she’s home.” Taylor moved to block the elevator doors from closing.

Korra tried not to dwell on the fact that Taylor had been in Asami’s apartment, that it only served to confirm her suspicions. She couldn’t think about that right now. She focused instead on how ridiculous it felt to be standing there with two cups of coffee; how obvious and transparent it made her feel. “Um, would you like one of these? They gave me an extra one by mistake.”

“Yeah?” Taylor accepted the cup with something that resembled relief. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.” She sighed. “I drank way too much last night and I’m a mess and I really have to be at the studio and... sorry, you really don’t need to hear any of this. It was really nice running into you again. Literally.” She laughed as she backed away into the elevator.

“Yeah, it was.” So nice.

“Thanks again!”

Korra forced a smile that vanished the second the elevator doors closed. She stared at her reflection in the mirror that remained and shook her head. Now what? Talking to Asami was out of the question. Taylor knew she’d been there, so leaving was out of the question. “Crap.” She felt like kicking something; herself preferably.

“Hey, you left your...”

Korra whirled around at the sound of Asami’s voice.

“...Korra?”

Asami was standing in the open doorway, wrapped in a dark blue towel and nothing more.

Drops of water fell from the tips of her dark hair and landed at her bare feet. Korra struggled to form a complete a thought as she stared. “Hey.” Confusion shone in Asami’s blue eyes and Korra felt compelled to add, “One of my classes is meeting at the Met this morning, but I got here early, so I thought I’d say hello.” The lies were coming easily now and she didn’t know whether or not that was a good thing.

“By staring at the elevator?”

“I had something in my eye...”

“Did you get it?”

“Yup, all good.”

Asami studied her silently for half a second. “Is everything okay?”

No! Korra wanted to shout. “Everything’s great, why?”

“Well...” She eyed the elevator door and then said, “I thought maybe... well, you said you were breaking up with Adam last night. Did that go okay?”

Korra felt monumental relief that she had that to fall back on. “It sucked, actually,” and that much was the truth. “But it had to be done.”

Asami nodded. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.” Why not drag out the torture? She followed Asami into the apartment and told herself to breathe. Images of what Asami and Taylor might have done the night before flashed persistently through her mind and she pushed them away. “So, your sort of date seems to have gone well.” She added what she hoped was an encouraging smile. She didn’t want to know about this. Why was she asking?

“Hmm, what makes you say that?”

Korra watched a drop of water slide down Asami’s arm and stifled the urge to wipe it away. Her skin looked so soft. “I ran into Taylor as she was leaving.”

“Oh.” Asami looked amused, suddenly. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “You think we slept together?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I’m hardly that easy.”

Was that a no? It sounded like a no. “I see...”

“She was drunk and my apartment was closer to the club, so I offered her my couch for a few hours.”

Korra practically sighed with relief. “I’m terribly sorry I put your virginity into question, then.” She smiled, a real smile, and held up the coffee in her hand. “I brought you coffee,” she said, and was thankful she’d given her own away to Taylor.

“You insult my virtue and then you hope to make it up to me with coffee?”

“Do you have a better idea?” It came out sounding more flirtatious than Korra had intended but she decided to go with it.

Asami didn’t seem to notice. “My mural,” she said.

“What?”

“Tonight.”

Korra glanced at the wall in question. “Tonight?”

“Would you be free around... eight?”

“You’re serious?”

Asami smiled. “Very.”

Korra felt panicked, for entirely different reasons than she’d expected during this visit. “But I still don’t know what I want to paint.” She hadn’t even thought about it.

“Doesn’t matter; you don’t even have to bring anything. Can you be here?”

Sure, who needed sleep? Or to do homework? “I suppose...”

“Good.”

Asami walked closer suddenly, and Korra briefly registered the fact that she had a silver cell phone in one hand. She focused on this because it was far less overwhelming than the fact that Asami was right in front of her now; her body only inches away. Korra stood still, afraid that any movement would give away how badly she wanted to reach out and touch Asami.

But isn’t that why she’d come?

Before she had any chance at all to make up her mind, she felt Asami’s lips against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the sensation and fought the urge to turn her head; to meet those soft lips with her own. She felt Asami’s fingers brush against the back of her hand as they pried away the cup and Korra thought she might moan or pass out or do something equally embarrassing. Such innocent contact shouldn’t feel so good, but her body seemed to disagree. She could smell the soap on Asami’s skin, the shampoo in her hair, the mint on her breath. All the words she’d come to say grew foggy in her mind, while her emotions swelled and swirled inside her, alive and vibrant against the dark backdrop of her fear.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Asami whispered, and Korra opened her eyes when she felt her step away. “That was really thoughtful.”

Seconds passed as Korra tried desperately to compile a thought and then to voice it. “It was nothing,” she said at last. “I just poured a few drops of coffee into a cup full of sugar, just how you like it.” If possible, Asami’s smile made Korra’s heart pound harder. She could tell her now. She could blurt it out in a breath or two and get it over with. She could then begin to deal with the rejection; with the endless spectrum of reasons and excuses why they could never be.

“I should probably get ready,” Asami said. “I have to get to the studio.”

“Sure, of course.” Korra felt embarrassed suddenly for showing up uninvited and taking up Asami’s time. “See you tonight?”

Asami sounded shy and hopeful and the tone made Korra look up. She couldn’t tell what Asami was thinking and it frustrated her. “I’ll be here,” she promised. Half-asleep and comatose and probably failing out of college... but I’ll be here.

***

Asami stirred the iced tea in her glass, impatient and irritable, but mostly hungry. “Where the hell is she?” She looked around the restaurant, ignoring the curious, interested glances from strangers, the cell phones stealthily capturing her image as she looked past.

“Her flight was late,” Opal said. “Calm down. Eat a roll.”

“I don’t want a roll,” Asami snapped, but grabbed one anyway. She cast an apologetic glance in Opal’s direction. “Sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep.”

Bolin cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Tell us more about that. You and Taylor were looking very cozy together when I left you.”

“They were?”

Asami shook her head at Opal. “No, we were not.”

“Oh c’mon,” said Bolin. “You can’t possibly tell me nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

Opal was frowning. “But you would tell us if something had, right? You wouldn’t get all... silent and mysterious.”

“Of course she would.”

Asami ripped a piece of bread. “Nothing happened. She passed out on my couch and snuck out while I was in the shower.” And then ran into Korra; Korra, who had stopped by at six in the morning, with coffee, just to say hi. Why? Asami had asked herself that very question all day; obsessively.

“You mean she snuck out after you enjoyed a sensual shower together.” Bolin winked and Asami threw the piece of bread at his head. She laughed when it landed in his glass of water.

“Can we pretend to be adults for five minutes?” Opal didn’t seem able to decide which one of them to look at disapprovingly first.

“There’s absolutely no plus side to that,” Bolin argued, fishing the piece of bread out of the glass with a spoon. “You’re paying for this water,” he said to Asami.

She smirked and turned to Opal. “What’s up?”

“Did you look at the applications I sent your way?”

“Applications for...?”

Opal’s nose flared. “For your assistant!”

“Right.” She’d forgotten entirely. “I did not. But I will.”

“When?”

“When I get a chance.”

“Which will be when?”

Asami looked at Bolin. “Which will be when?”

“Crap, was I supposed to be keeping track of that stuff?” Bolin frowned. “Hmm.”

“Please hire someone,” Opal begged. “Do it for my sanity.”

“Okay, how about right now? Do you have the applications?”

Opal brightened. “Of course I do. I even narrowed it down for you. Mostly everyone was entirely under qualified, but these are the better ones. Sorry, none of them will be as awesome as me.” She handed over some files. “I highlighted the pertinent parts.”

Asami opened the first file and stared down at the first page. It was a questionnaire. “You asked them what their porn name would be?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t highlight that,” Opal said defensively. “I was trying to be thorough. I didn’t know what you wanted to know.”

Asami flipped through the pages. “Did any of them mention Korra?”

“Asami, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but most people are not as obsessed with her as you are.”

Asami decided to ignore that. “She told me that she knew someone that might be interested... I was wondering if they contacted you?”

“When?”

“I don’t know, sometime between Monday and now.”

“A girl named Megan Walker called yesterday,” Opal said. “She’s the third file. She didn’t mention Korra. But that’s the only person I’ve heard from between then and now. Plus, she didn’t really have a good answer for how she found out about the job. So...”

“Megan,” Asami said, skipping to the last file. “Korra knows a Megan...”

“You really want to hire someone based on the fact that they know the girl you’re crushing on?”

“Why not?” Bolin asked. “She can always fire her later.”

Asami looked through the stapled pages. “No questionnaire?”

“No time, sorry, though I’m sure I can find out her porn name for you if you want. She faxed over her resume last night. It looks pretty solid. She’s currently working as a personal shopper, but was a personal assistant before that.”

“Cool,” Asami said. She handed the files back to Opal. “Let’s set up an interview.”

“For when?”

Asami looked at Bolin. “For when?”

Bolin sighed and looked at Opal. “Don’t pretend like you’ve not kept track of her schedule. I saw you tapping away on that PDA of yours every time you told me to write something down.”

“Fine.” Opal withdrew the gadget in question from her bag. “Taylor doesn’t need you on Friday, so maybe sometime then.”

“Done.” Asami picked up her cell as it started to vibrate on the table. She looked at the incoming caller and accepted the call. “Where the hell are you? I’m due back in forty-five minutes and we’ve not even ordered.”

Her agent’s voice sounded far away, drowned by louder, more persistent noise. “...tr...”

Asami frowned. “What?”

“The...fu...” And the line went dead.

“Lin?” Asami shut the phone off and addressed the rest of the table. “She’s ‘the fu.’”

“The what?”

Asami shrugged and put the phone back on the table. “My guess is she’s been kidnapped by aliens that only allow her to speak in monosyllables. Bummer. Let’s order.”

Bolin picked up the menu but shook his head. “You wouldn’t be so blasé about the whole thing if you were the one on the spaceship.”

“Might be fun on that spaceship,” Asami said, as she looked around for the waiter. “As long as they have food, I’m happy.”

“They’d just anally probe you while reading you Vogon poetry.”

“Oh, that reminds me! I need a favor.”

“Okay, but I don’t know where I’d get a Vogon costume on such short notice.”

She paused to rethink the context of her statement. “Okay, there was a perfectly logical thought process there that has nothing to do with anal probing or Vogons.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Anyway,” Asami said, “I need you to pick up a few things for me and drop them off at my apartment.”

“Intriguing,” Opal said, joining the conversation. “What sort of things?”

“Paint,” Asami said. “Lots of paint.”

***

Korra stood at her bedroom window, watching the weather argue with itself. She watched as the sun disappeared behind clouds, its absence briefly bathing the room in muted shades of gray. Raindrops fell and scattered against the glass, sliding down in jagged, aimless lines.

Then the world was bright again, light reflecting from car windows, from small puddles on the ground. Shadows spilled in textured patterns across her arm, her floor, the unmade covers on her bed.

It was appropriate, this weather; the ying and yang of light and dark which matched her mood quite perfectly. She should be in class instead of standing in her room, sipping lukewarm coffee and staring at the sky, seeing and sawing between happy and depressed, between wired and exhausted. She should be standing in front of a canvas, paintbrush in hand. She should not be thinking about Asami Sato. She should not be thinking about Asami Sato in a towel, kissing her cheek.

Korra sighed and pulled out her cell phone, typed a text message and sent it on its way.

She should not be sending Asami messages. Random, disembodied thoughts like the one she’d just sent: “My grandfather used to say that when it rained while the sun was out it meant the witches were getting married.” What did Asami care?

And still. She couldn’t help but want to be connected to Asami at that moment; at every moment. What was Asami doing? Thinking? Who was she with?

Is this what infatuation felt like? Had she somehow stepped over the line of sanity and walked blindly into obsessed-stalker territory? A ridiculous thought, really. This wasn’t her; losing sleep over someone, skipping classes, obsessively checking her cell phone for a response.

She put the mug of coffee on her bedside table and sat at the edge of her bed. What would fix this? Telling Asami? And what if she couldn’t? What if she couldn’t find a good moment to broach the subject? How did you tell a famous actress that you had a crush on her? It was stupid. Asami would laugh at her. She’d think, “Who doesn’t?” She’d dismiss it, change the subject. That might be even worse than awkward silence followed by an even more awkward rejection.

Korra rubbed her eyes. She’d managed a nap but she was still tired. Her mind kept running around in circles, building imaginary conversations that might never come to pass. A part of her was tempted to just send a text message: “I like you.” Simple, straightforward, but perhaps too easily misinterpreted. “I have a crush on you.” Too... blunt; random. She didn’t know how to narrow all of what she felt into a simple statement. Perhaps an email would be better. The laptop lay open on her bed, an email at the center, addressed to one of her professors.

She read over the contents of her attempted excuse for missing class and deleted the text. She’d come up with something later, maybe. She minimized the first email and opened a new one. The blank space below the subject line stared at her expectantly, awaiting her confessions. But the thoughts stilled in her mind, and minutes later she gave up. She surfed the web, letting the nonsense in, hoping to find the words to express her feelings in random YouTube videos.

Eventually, she came back to the email and started to type, quickly, thoughtlessly:

_ I shouldn’t be sending you this email. I know I shouldn’t because there’s a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing lately, like thinking of you - and not in the normal thinking-of-you way, the other kind of thinking of you. The kind of thinking of you that keeps me up at night sometimes because the thought of you does crazy things to me. My feelings for you have evolved into something nameless, something that – at least in my realm of experience – defies definition. Or perhaps I’m too scared to define it because I’ve never been here before. _

_ In this scared, bumbling, rambling place. I’ve never been the one chasing after someone. I don’t know how to be that person. So I’m running a marathon around what I’m really trying to say, which is that I like you. I’m not arrogant enough to think that you could ever return these feelings but I thought if you knew, then at least I could move on. I have no expectations from you. I don’t want things to get awkward. I just wanted you to know so that I can stop thinking about telling you and maybe get some sleep. _

_ -Korra _

And she sent the message before she could change her mind. She stared at the outbox folder until the email disappeared and she took a deep breath. She’d done it. Her heart felt like it might pound its way out of her chest, but she’d done it.

She looked around the room, biting her lip. Now what? She grabbed her cell phone again. In her typing frenzy she’d missed a text message from Asami. It said: “Did the witches marry each other?” Korra smiled and then her smile faltered as she remembered the email she’d just sent. She replied: “Yes, they totally did. PS: Can you check your email where you are?”

She stared at the phone until the response came and then she held her breath as she opened it. “My cell can do anything. But I got nothing from you. Did you send something?”

Confusion replaced her nervousness and she frowned at the response. Perhaps the email was delayed? She turned to the laptop and checked the sent folder to make sure it hadn’t gotten jammed. But no, it had sent. The problem was something else entirely. “Oh shit.”

She blinked, read the name again and let out another stream of curses. Her professor. She’d sent the email to her professor; her very old, very manly, very unfriendly professor. “Fuck!”

In a blind haste, she opened another email and shot off what she hoped was an apologetic retraction to her earlier message. She double-checked that she hadn’t accidentally addressed that to the wrong person and sent it on its way.

She stared blankly at her closed door, trying not to think about what she’d just done. The thought of her professor reading that email made her want to crawl under a rock and die. The universe was clearly trying to tell her that confessing her feelings to Asami was a grave mistake. “No,” she wrote in reply to Asami’s text. “Was just wondering.”

She tossed the phone aside, put the laptop on the floor, and pulled the covers over her head.

***

Lin caught up to them as they were getting into the limo, looking so dirty and disheveled that they didn’t recognize her. It wasn’t until she called Asami’s name that they even looked in her direction.

“Jesus, what happened to you?”

“Long fucking story,” her agent said, slapping white dust from the sleeves of her dark suit. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Get in, I’ve got to get back to the studio,” Asami said, after staring at her for a moment. “Tell us on the way.”

Lin helped herself to a bottle of water from the limo’s mini-bar and settled into the leather seats with a deep sigh. “I fucking hate New York,” she said, uncapping her drink.

“Looks like you went swimming in a pool of flour,” Bolin said.

“Yeah, well.” Lin rubbed at her eyes and sniffled. “Plane ended up in fucking Newark because of some shit problem with JFK, and then the cab broke down on the Turnpike. The driver didn’t speak a word of English. I don’t know what the fuck he was saying. I went out to pace around, get some fresh air, calm the hell down, and some truck sped merrily along, spilling this white shit in the air, which then landed all over my brand new Armani.” She drank half the bottle of water in one long gulp. “Fucking hate New York.”

“Technically, it should be New Jersey you hate,” Opal said, but Lin only glared at her.

Asami bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Well, glad you made it.”

Lin eyed her. “You look good.”

“You always say I look good.”

“You always do look good,” Lin said, and finished her water.

“So what’s this great script you’ve got for us?” Opal said, her voice all business now.

Lin put the empty bottle aside and picked up her briefcase. “How do you feel about France?”

“I have no specific feelings about France,” Asami said cautiously. “Why?”

“They want you for the lead in a romantic comedy.” Lin handed her the bound pages of the screenplay. “Set in France. Starts filming in June. Big budget, big studio, big names. Full pay.”

Asami handed the script over to Opal without looking at it. “We’ll take a look at it.”

“Look at it fast,” Lin said. “The director wants to meet with you next week. He’ll be in New York. But the offer’s as good as yours.”

“You came all the way to New York for a romance comedy?” Opal asked.

“No, I came all the way to New York for this,” and she handed Asami another script.

She read the title The Bridge of Moes several times over before it finally sank in. She’d read this script two years before and fallen in love with it. She hadn’t gotten the part. “I don’t understand. I thought they’d already found a lead.”

Lin grinned brightly. “Change of plans. Change of directors, too. Whole big Hollywood mess, actually. Point is they’re scrapping the whole thing and starting over. And as far as the lead goes, they now want you.”

“Oh, my God.” Asami stared dumbly at the pages in her hand. Here it was at last, the type of film she’d always dreamed of doing. The script she’d loved from the very first page. “So, that’s it? I’ve got it?”

“It’s about as sure as anything is in Hollywood,” Lin said with a shrug. “But yeah. They want you. Should I tell them it’s a yes then?”

Asami smiled, happier and lighter than she’d felt in years. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”

***

Korra had somehow gathered what was left of her pride and dragged it all the way to the Upper East Side. She’d ignored her email and skipped all of her classes and had strongly considered transferring to a different university entirely, because the thought of walking into class and facing her professor made her insides shrivel. On the plus side, she’d been too preoccupied with overwhelming humiliation to think of Asami. Much.

But now she was back in Asami’s building, in Asami’s elevator, in Asami’s hallway, and finally, in front of Asami’s door, which, to her surprise, was partly open. She knocked softly, worried that she’d arrived just in time to witness a robbery in progress, because that was the sort of day this was shaping up to be. But soon Asami’s voice greeted her from the other side of the door, inviting her in.

Korra pushed the door open and stepped inside and then immediately froze. The lightwood floor near the wall had been covered with a long white tarp, upon which rested dozens of cans of paint of varying shades of color. In the center stood Asami, dressed in baggy ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. “What....the hell?”

Asami was smiling. “You look surprised.”

Korra closed the door and started removing her Bolinet. “You could say that. What’s all this?”

“For an artist you’re astoundingly ignorant on the basics.”

“You’re not half as clever as you think you are.”

“Deep down I think you think I am.”

“Deep down I think you’re crazy.” Korra walked over and stood just outside the edge of the tarp. She surveyed the random assortment of paints and brushes before looking up. She’d somehow forgotten that Asami had asked her to come over to paint. She’d been too preoccupied with the business of trying to tell Asami how she felt to consider the plans set before her. “So... you just want me to paint something now?”

“I can start,” Asami said easily, and picked up a paintbrush. She dipped it in a can of pink paint.

Korra stared in horror as Asami drew an uneven circle on the pristine white wall. “What are you doing?”

Asami regarded her creation. “An Easter egg, maybe.”

“You can’t just... you can’t...” The words failed her as she stared uncomprehendingly at the actress.

“I can’t what?” Asami was taunting her. “C’mon, this is fun. Draw an Easter egg with me.”

“Are you high?”

“On paint fumes a little,” Asami said, and began to color in her ‘egg’. “This could be like a themed wall. Ooh, the Halloween one would be cool.” She made another pink blob on the wall. “Seriously, come paint some eggs with me. And maybe a bunny.”

“You’ve lost your ever loving mind,” Korra said, but she leaned down to pick up a paintbrush. It was too late to salvage the wall. She watched as Asami painted what looked like horns on the egg. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Bunny ears.”

She stepped over the cans of paint in her way and walked over to Asami. “It looks like you’re painting satanic bubblegum.” The statement earned her a deep frown, which only made Korra smile. It was this, she thought, it was this moment and her feelings about this moment that she couldn’t begin to explain, never mind verbalize. She felt giddy inside; horrified by Asami’s attempts at art, but content to be here, witnessing it, being a part of it. It was this, she thought, that she wanted more of. “I’ll paint the bunny.”

***

Eventually, Asami gave up trying to paint satanic bubbles across her wall and stood back to watch Korra instead. It was fascinating to see images come to life, to watch the random shapes suddenly take form and become recognizable. She stood and stared, mesmerized by every deliberate stroke of the paintbrush, by how simple Korra made it seem. She would be content to stand and watch Korra paint forever.

“You’re staring at me,” Korra said, without turning toward her. She was putting the finishing touches on the rabbit’s face.

“I was just thinking how much better my side of the wall turned out.”

Korra did look at her then, blue eyes narrowed. “I assure you that this is the best psychedelic Easter bunny in the whole of the Upper East Side.”

“The use of neon paint was a nice touch.”

“Well, I had to figure out a way to keep up with your special brand of crazy.” Korra stepped back to regard her creation, coming to a stop beside Asami. “I think it turned out pretty good.”

Korra sounded genuinely pleased and it made Asami smile. She would gladly paint across every surface of her apartment just to get a repeat of this evening. Korra was standing so close that their arms were almost touching and Asami’s heart sped up. “The yellow paint is supposed to glow in the dark.”

“Do you have a black light?”

“I don’t. I could turn off the lights and see what happens, though.” She hit the switch but soon the lights from the City spilled in from outside. “Not dark enough, I guess.”

“No, but wow,” Korra said, moving toward the window. “Your view is unbelievable. Do you ever just stand here in the dark and stare out?”

“Sometimes.” Asami crossed the room. She looked at the bright lights of buildings near and far, of Central Park in the distance, and tried to see what Korra saw. I could give you this, she wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, she pulled the ottoman from its place by the couch and rolled it to where Korra was standing. “Sit. I’ll bring the champagne.”

“There’s champagne? Are we celebrating something?”

“Psychedelic bunnies, satanic bubblegum, what’s not to celebrate?” Asami removed the bottle from the bucket of ice she’d left it in and dried away the moisture before grabbing a couple of glasses and heading back. She paused briefly to take in the sight of Korra silhouetted against the backdrop of New York. She wanted to remember this; she wanted the image of this moment forever burned into her mind.

Korra relieved her of the glasses when she approached. “If you poke my eye out with the cork, my mother will kill you.”

“I’m deeply offended,” Asami said, removing the foil from the bottle. She untwisted the wire cage and draped a towel over the cork. “I’ve yet to injure someone with a cork.”

“Yet.”

But the cork in question gave way as Asami turned the bottle, and she eased it off without struggle. “And voila.” She filled a glass and handed it back to Korra, then filled the other. “You doubted me.”

“After watching you wield a paintbrush, how could I not?” She waited until Asami sat down and asked, “Are we really celebrating psychedelic bunnies and satanic bubblegum?”

“Partly.” Asami met Korra’s gaze, and she wondered if the artist was bothered by their proximity; if she was even aware of it. “My agent had really good news for me today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I got a role I’d desperately wanted and thought I’d never have.”

“That’s definitely worth celebrating.” Korra smiled and held up her glass. “To getting that which you thought you’d never have.”

Their glasses clinked and they both drank, and after a moment, Asami said, “What about you? Anything interesting happen today?”

Korra chuckled and turned her gaze back on the view. “Today has been a really weird day.”

“Because of the witches getting married?”

“Yes, that’s definitely at the top of the list,” Korra said, and smiled. “So, what’s this role you got?”

“The Bridge of Moes.”

“The Bridge of Moes,” Korra echoed. “That tells me nothing, but okay.”

“I’m scared to jinx it,” Asami admitted.

“So, I guess that means you’re going back to California once you’re done here.”

The statement caught Asami off-guard. It had never occurred to her that Korra might care if she left or not. “It looks more like I’ll be heading to France first.”

“France? Is that where it’s set?”

“I’m doing a romantic comedy first. Then it’s off to... who knows. The story takes place on an island, but I’m not sure where they’re filming.”

Korra nodded and smiled again, though Asami thought she saw it falter. “I’m happy for you. It all sounds really exciting.”

The shift in Korra’s mood was palpable and Asami wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I’m sure it will be interesting.” She studied Korra’s profile, trying to decipher her thoughts. “I was thinking of making New York my more permanent residence.”

Korra looked at her in surprise. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I like it here.” You’re here.

“Have you even gone anywhere?”

“What do you mean?”

Korra pointed to the world outside. “Have you seen anything of Manhattan? You know, something other than fancy restaurants and nightclubs?”

“There’s more than that?” Asami joked, but Korra only rolled her eyes at her.

“There’s this tiny café near where I live that has the best coffee and the worst live poetry readings you will ever encounter.”

“Worse than Vogon poetry?”

“What the hell is Vogon poetry?”

Asami laughed. “According to Douglas Adams it’s the third worst poetry in the whole universe.”

“Then yes, this might actually be worse.”

“Let’s go then.”

“Go where?”

“To this café of perpetual hyperbole,” Asami answered, and stood. “I just need to change real quick.”

Korra stared up at her. “Are you always this impulsive?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No,” Korra said after a moment. She finished her drink and rose to her feet. “I kinda like it.”

***

The café felt even smaller than Korra remembered, though everything felt smaller after Asami’s apartment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been here, couldn’t believe that Asami had wanted to come. The space was almost dark, lit by small candles at each table, most of which were empty. A spotlight cast an orange glow upon the stage, where a woman stood, reading from a small, spiral notebook.

“The...” said the woman, and rang a tiny bell, “HYMEN.... broke...”

Korra could hear Asami snicker behind her as they moved toward an open table. “I told you it was bad,” she whispered, when they reached their destination.

“...SAND... in the webbed toes of proverbial wombs...” Ding.

“I think this is officially my favorite place ever,” Asami said.

A woman appeared out of nowhere and placed two cups of coffee in front of them, then walked off without a word.

“They just bring it,” Korra explained. “It’s really good, though. Try it.”

Asami reached for the sugar and poured in packet after packet.

“Doesn’t diabetes concern you at all?” Korra asked, watching the display with a mixture of horror and fascination.

“Ask me again in twenty years.” Asami sipped her coffee and looked surprised. “This really is good. Without milk, even.”

Korra grinned, pleased and somewhat relieved that she and Asami were on the same page; at least where coffee and bad poetry were concerned.

“SHAKE THE PELVIS...” Ding. “Shake... the pel pel pel...vi...sion...”

“Wow. Just wow.”

“That about sums it up.” But she wasn’t listening to the poetry. She was too busy watching Asami while trying not to look obvious about it. Korra wondered if she’d ever get around to telling her what she’d been meaning to tell her all day. She should have come out with it back in the apartment. They’d had champagne, a gorgeous view... it would’ve been the perfect moment.

“...SALMON...”

This, on the other hand, was not the perfect moment, and she was almost certain that there would be nothing left to do but part ways after this. “Do you have to be up at the butt crack of dawn again tomorrow?”

“I can sleep in a little. Why?”

“Just wondering.” It could wait, Korra thought. It didn’t have to be tonight. In a month or two Asami would head off to Europe and none of this would matter. “Would you like to see my apartment ex after this?” she asked, without thinking.

Asami turned to look at her, and the surprise was clearly written on her face. “I’d love to.”

“Great,” Korra said, and felt her stomach flutter with anxious anticipation. There was still time.

***

Korra tried not to feel self-conscious about the state of her building, tried not to look too closely at every glaring imperfection. Already she worried that Asami regretted her decision to come along. “I’m sorry the elevator’s broken,” she said, as they reached another flight of stairs.

“I don’t mind.”

It was the polite thing to say, Korra knew, and she couldn’t tell if Asami meant it or not. She should have told Asami to go home. All of this was selfish, and stupid, and would surely end in embarrassment and humiliation, her quota of which had already been reached for the day.

“Actually reminds me that I could use the exercise,” Asami added.

“Yeah, I noticed your butt is starting to sag a little,” she teased.

“You’ve been looking at my butt?”

That wasn’t the part she’d expected Asami to focus on. “Well, it’s hard to miss in those jeans.”

“Interesting.”

Korra chewed on her bottom lip and kept on climbing steps. At this rate Asami would figure it all out before they even got to the apartment. They reached her floor a moment later and Korra unlocked the door, grateful that Kuvira had gone out for the night. Now all that was left to do was open her mouth and confess. “Sorry for the mess,” she said, as they stepped inside. She turned on the light and looked around, suddenly worried that something embarrassing had been left out of place.

But Kuvira had cleaned up. The dishes on the kitchen counter had been washed and put away, the pile of laundry on the couch no longer visible. She was relieved enough not to feel embarrassed about everything else: the cheap furniture, the water stains on the ceiling, the cracks on the walls. But she did look at Asami, trying to gauge her reaction. “It must seem really depressing compared to yours,” she said, when she couldn’t read the actress’ expression.

“I wasn’t comparing,” Asami said, meeting her gaze. “I was just thinking it was nice to see where you live finally.”

Finally. Korra didn’t realize Asami had been waiting for an invitation. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m good.” Asami was inspecting the art on the walls of the hallway. “Are all of these yours?”

Korra glanced at the framed paintings, trying to remember how she felt about them; trying to determine whether or not to feel embarrassed that Asami was seeing them “They’re old,” she said by way of an answer, because she was too nervous to put her thoughts in order. She couldn’t get used to the sight of Asami in her apartment. “Do you want to see my room?”

“Of course.”

Korra tried to envision the state of her room as she led Asami in its direction. If she’d known she’d be inviting Asami Sato over, she’d have performed a total makeover, but there was no time now. There was only the faint hope that magical elves had appeared during the day and cleaned up after her.

No such luck. She winced slightly at the myriad of art supplies haphazardly piled in a corner, at the assortment of sketchbooks and textbooks she’d never gotten around to putting away.

The carpet looked even more stained than usual, spots of paint randomly scattered across its surface. At least she’d had the foresight to make the bed. “It’s a bit of a nightmare,” she said.

Asami came to stand by the bed and looked around. “I like it.”

“You like it.” Korra stared dubiously at the actress, who seemed perfectly at home in her dingy apartment.

Asami removed her jacket and tossed it on the bed. “I do. It’s very you.”

“Very me?” Korra looked around again, trying to figure out what Asami meant by that.

Asami stepped toward a section of the wall. “What’s this?”

“It’s a photography project I was working on,” Korra said, looking at the collage of photos she’d glued to the wall. “Of New York life.”

“Did you take these?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re amazing. I didn’t know you took photos.”

“I don’t,” Korra said quickly, feeling shy all of a sudden. “I mean, not really. I was just trying something.” Asami glanced up suddenly and Korra followed her gaze. Above them was her failed attempt at ceiling art, a painting of a sunset that never quite got finished. “I didn’t have a canvas handy...”

Asami smiled at her. “So where is it?”

“Where is... what?”

“Your toilet paper collection.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I can’t believe you think I’d forget.”

Korra shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s top secret. You don’t have the proper clearance.”

“I see.” Asami sat at the edge of the bed and glanced up at her, looking so beautiful that it made Korra ache.

It was now or never. “Ask me again about my day,” she said, more forcefully than she’d intended.

Asami regarded her with curiosity, a question in her eyes. “Okay. Tell me about your day.”

“I didn’t have a class at the Met,” she said, opting to open with a confession, thinking that would make the rest come easier. She could hear her heartbeat punctuating every word. “I came by this morning because I couldn’t sleep, because I desperately wanted to tell you something. I took a cab, I picked up coffee, I rehearsed what I would say. And then I ran into Taylor, and I thought she’d spent the night with you and I felt like... like dying, or-or throwing up or maiming her; maybe all at the same time, which would be weird and messy.”

She watched Asami’s expression, trying to gauge a reaction, but Asami looked mostly confused. She continued. “And so I thought that I’d just leave, but then there you were... in a towel. And I’m not sure if you know this, but you look really good with your hair wet... and your legs are really...”

She saw Asami’s eyebrow curve upward and she decided to stick to the point. Or maybe that was the point. She was too nervous to think. “And then you kissed my cheek which kind of fried my brain even more than it already was. So I came home and took a nap and that did nothing. And I woke up still with this monologue in my head, which, by the way, sounded nothing like this one now. It was way more eloquent and had big, flowy words... anyway, I wrote you this email, because I thought maybe that would be easier. For both of us. Well, mainly for me; but for you too. But I sent it to my professor by mistake, which is why you didn’t receive it...”

Asami was looking at her intently and it made Korra swallow. She momentarily forgot what else she wanted to say. She felt like she was drifting in a sea of senselessness, trying desperately to find her point. “I just wanted you to know that... I was really happy that you hadn’t slept with Taylor because... because I like you. You know... like you. And I thought you should know.” She breathed, feeling instantly stupid. “Anyway, if you still want to see the toilet paper collection I can get—“

She felt a touch on her arm like a jolt of electricity. Korra looked down and found Asami’s hand there, stopping her.

“You like me?” Asami was standing now.

Korra looked at her, meeting green eyes. She couldn’t read them. “Look, I know it’s crazy. You’re you and I’m...” She waved her free hand, pointing to everything, to nothing. She wanted this moment to pass. “...not you.”

Asami’s hand was still on her arm, sliding down, slowly, fingers trailing down her wrist, her palm. Korra closed her eyes briefly, trying to calm herself, to breathe. Then she looked up. A strand of dark hair curled in front of Asami’s face and Korra reached up to push it away. Her hand came to rest on Asami’s neck, and then she leaned forward, propelled by a courage that sprung from somewhere foreign and unrecognizable. She brushed her lips against Asami’s, softly, quickly; a question in the touch. Her lips tingled as they lingered millimeters away. She felt suddenly terrified that she’d made everything worse.

But she felt Asami’s hand move to her hip, felt her step closer until their bodies were pressed together. And all of these sensations hit her at once: Asami’s thumb caressing the skin above her belt, the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips as they moved against hers. She felt suddenly breathless, dizzy, she pulled Asami even closer, kissing her hungrily, desperately. She wanted more.

Somewhere in the apartment, a door slammed.

They pulled apart, waited; their labored breathing the only sound in the room.

“Korra? You home?” The voice came from far away, but the steps grew closer.

“You have to hide,” Korra whispered to Asami, already pushing her toward the closet. “If she sees you here she’ll never leave. Never mind the endless barrage of questions.”

Asami frowned at her, but obliged. “You know, this is kind of ironic.”

Korra shut the closet door, rushed to the bed and sat down, trying to find a casual pose. She could still feel Asami’s lips on hers. She was shaking. She’d been kissing Asami. Asami had been kissing her. She was going to kill Kuvira.

“Korra?” Kuvira called her name in lieu of knocking. She entered a second later. “Hey, good, you are home.”

“I thought you were gone for the night?” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but she was too flustered.

Kuvira didn’t seem to notice, lost to whatever thoughts floated in her head. “I am, but I came to get you. Best party, I swear to God. You have to come. You’ve got to change, though.” She started toward the closet. “How about that red—“

“AAAAHHHH!!!” It was the only thing that she could think to do.

Kuvira whirled around, startled.

“Cramps,” Korra said quickly, feigning pain. “Really bad.”

“Well, shit. Did you take something?”

“No,” she said, and then wondered which answer might make Kuvira leave quicker. “Yes.”

“Well, here, get in bed.” Kuvira was pulling down the covers, urging her under. “Wait, at least take your pants off. Why are you in jeans? You’re shaking. Are you cold? I’ll make you some tea.”

“No,” Korra said quickly. “I was just going to change and go to bed. You go. Have fun.”

Kuvira hesitated, looked at her with concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Korra insisted. “Really.” To her relief, Kuvira started toward the door.

She paused in the doorway, pensively staring back. “Didn’t you have your period like a week and a half ago?”

Korra clenched her jaw. “Yeah, it’s being weird.”

“That’s not good. You should see someone.”

“I will.” Go. Please, for the love of God.

“Is that a new jacket?”

She glanced at the object on her bed and felt a wave of panic. “Uh, no. It’s... a friend from class left it. I’m going to return it tomorrow.”

“Right,” Kuvira said, staring at her now, and Korra was certain it was all over. But Kuvira only shrugged. “Well, feel better. Call me if you need anything. It’s not that far.” She closed the door and Korra held her breath as she listened to the retreating footsteps. It felt like ages before she finally heard the front door close.

She jumped up, fearful now that everything would be awkward. Asami had kissed her. The reality of what that meant hadn’t quite hit her yet. She didn’t even know what it meant; didn’t really care at that moment. “Sor—” She started to apologize but Asami’s lips were on hers again, her arms around her waist, pulling her close. Desire shot through her; spread everywhere at once, red hot and overwhelming. Asami’s hair fell forward, tickled Korra’s cheek, and she brushed it back, deepened the kiss until they fell back against the wall.

“Jesus,” Asami gasped, as Korra fell against her. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Korra smiled against Asami’s lips, feeling both giddy and lightheaded. The moment was beginning to take on the surrealistic qualities of a dream. She felt like she was somewhere else entirely; floating, melting, standing beside herself. She didn’t know how long this might last but she didn’t want it to end. Asami kissed her again, and Korra wondered how anyone’s lips could feel so soft. She felt bold, alive. She started moving toward the bed, pulling Asami with her, not daring to break the kiss.

She felt Asami’s hands on her sides, steadying her as they lowered themselves onto the bed. Korra couldn’t think. Her body was on fire and Asami was on top of her, kissing her still. Korra could feel her against every inch of her and somehow it didn’t feel like enough.

“Wait,” Asami said suddenly, breathlessly, pulling her lips away. “We should talk about this.”

Talk. The word sounded strange, foreign. Korra opened her eyes and drew in a breath at the sight of Asami above her. Talk. She could barely think. “Okay,” she managed, her nervousness returning. She felt like she was coming out of a trance. “Let’s talk.”

***

Asami stared up at the unfamiliar print above the bed and tried to think of things that might bring her body temperature down, but all she could think about was Korra; Korra beside her, Korra beneath her, Korra kissing her. She closed her eyes. She could still taste Korra’s lips, could still feel the softness of her body. She’d never felt so out of control. She couldn’t believe any of this was happening. “I thought you were straight,” she said softly, expelled the words like a breath.

“Yeah, I feel very straight right now,” Korra said, turning her head, smiling at her. 

It would be in bad taste, Asami thought, to have a heart attack now. But what she felt right then was something between panic and elation and her heart beat to the rhythm of each extreme. She could feel her body respond to Korra’s words and she wanted desperately to reach out and touch her again. But the uncertainty of what any of this meant stopped her.

Korra turned on her side and looked at her, her features serious. “I know you and I make no sense,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I know that not very long from now you’re going to be traveling to who knows where and for who knows how long and that it’s ridiculous for me to even think of starting anything with you. I know that you can’t be ‘out.’ I know that any day now you’ll be going to work and making out with my best friend and also with a gorgeous woman that clearly wants you. And I can’t pretend that I don’t hate the thought of it. I can’t even promise that none of these things will ever faze me and that I’m okay with it all. I don’t know if I am. I honestly hadn’t thought past you rejecting me. But...” Korra paused in her monologue, was quiet for a second then said, “But, I think what I’m saying is that... if you want me... I’m yours.”

Asami could only blink. She was really here, in Korra’s room, hearing these words. This was really happening. If you want me... “Korra,” she began, “I’ve wanted you since...” She tried to think back, but failed. Her thoughts were too jumbled to think linearly or even coherently. “I can’t remember. Since before we even met. Since before I even went to your show at the gallery. Since forever, it feels like. There’s no ‘if’... there’s just a lot of... fuzziness.”

“Fuzziness,” Korra repeated.

“Yeah,” Asami said, thinking it was about as good a word as she would manage under these circumstances. “I’ve never been here before.”

“In my room?”

Asami smiled. “In anyone’s room; kissing... talking about... this.”

“This.” Korra looked thoughtful. Then she smiled. “You’ve really wanted me all that time?”

“You couldn’t tell?”

“Oh yeah,” Korra said, and laughed. “Everyday I thought, ‘Wow Asami Sato really wants my sexy bod.’”

“It is sexy,” Asami said, smiling, feeling a rush of confidence. She reached out and took Korra’s hand, loving the silky softness of it. Every time they touched it felt electric. “So... what now?”

“Now... I think you should go back to kissing me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHSKDLSIANSJSOAJSDJJK
> 
> When I first read this chapter, my heart exploded. Hopefully this lived up to your expectations :)
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving btw. I’m very grateful for all of you that have read this wonderful story! 💕


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

“Guess what?” The question came in one rushed breath, and Korra became vaguely aware of something cold against her ear, against her hand. Her phone, it occurred to her. She was on the phone. She couldn’t remember it ringing or her reaching to answer it. Her mind started to swim. Sleep. She wanted more sleep.

“Korra?”

“Mmm?” she said, through the images in her mind. Random shapes: A house; a purple shovel.

“I left you like five messages last night. Where were you?”

Last night. There was something about last night. But the shovel was now dancing Salsa with a hotdog and that was terribly intriguing.

“Korra!”

Korra forced her eyes open, slowly, and tried to focus on something, on anything, but the room looked strange, changed somehow. She closed her eyes again and that felt worlds better. “I’m so sleepy,” she mumbled, wanting simply to hang up and succumb to the warmth of the sheets and the softness of the pillow. “Talk later.”

“Not later. Now. Pretend you’re awake for half a second and listen to me: I got an interview with Asami Sato!”

Asami. It all came back suddenly: painting on walls, cold champagne, terrible poetry. And kissing. Lots of kissing. Korra’s eyes were open now. She was staring at the poster above her bed, the one Mako gave her what felt like a million years ago. Mako. He felt like a part of someone else’s life; part of a story someone else told her. Something had changed. She had changed. Asami had kissed her.

“Korra? Did you hear me?”

“That’s awesome!” she blurted, smiling, feeling overwhelmingly happy; for Megan, sure, but for herself, mostly. Asami had kissed her. Asami had kissed her.

“You need to help me figure out what to wear to the interview. Can you meet me for lunch?”

Korra pulled her mind away from the tempting memory of Asami’s mouth on hers, and tried to focus. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have class and I really need to see one of my professors and sort out a really big misunderstanding.” And Asami. I desperately need to see Asami. “Why don’t you take Tara?”

“Please, I love her, but she’s got zero taste in clothes. I practically have to dress her in the morning. Not that I mind that... but undressing her is way more fun.”

“Ew.”

“Oh, whatever. I sleep with your sister. Deal with it. How’s your thing going?”

“My thing?”

“Your Sapphic fling thing.”

“It’s not a fling.”

“Oh? What is it then?”

“It’s...” Korra paused, having no real name for it. They’d kissed. They’d admitted they had feelings for each other. But there had been no promises made, no rules established, no hints given for what came next. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. We kissed.” And her heart skipped at the words, at how real and solid they sounded out there in the real world.

“Wow,” Megan said, sounding interested now. “How was it?”

“Amazing.” Overwhelming. Terrifying. Confusing. Enlightening. But mostly amazing.

“Aww. How cute. Does that mean I can tell Tara?”

“No!” She felt somewhat panicked at the thought. “Not yet.”

“Hey, relax. Just because I came out of the womb waving a pride flag and a picture of Nicole Kidman doesn’t mean I’m going to drag you out of the closet before you’re ready.”

“That’s a really weird mental image, but thanks.” She yawned, her eyes feeling heavy again.

“Well, I’ll let you go. I still have a good hour, hour and a half of jumping around and shrieking to do. I’ll text you some pictures of potential outfits, okay? Later.”

Korra put the phone on the nightstand and looked up at the print on the ceiling. She’d always thought of it as a promise; his promise to her that one day they’d go to Paris, walk through the Louvre together, hand in hand. It had been a nice thought at the time, a persistent fantasy; a kind of hope. But there was none of that left now; just ink on paper, faded edges to match fading memories. There was, too, a kind of relief that went with it. A sense of moving on that had only partly to do with the fact that Asami had kissed her back.

Whatever came next, good or bad, happy or heartbreaking, it would at least be hers and hers alone. Her decision. Her life.

She stood, struggled for balance on the springy mattress, and took the poster down.

***

Was it a dream?

Asami woke with the question in her mind; or the feeling of the question, if not the question itself. She replayed the previous evening in her mind; each word, each touch, each kiss, until there was no longer any doubt.

Definitely not a dream.

Definitely not a dream, and yet it didn’t feel quite real, either. It didn’t seem quite real.

There was, at the edge of it all, a nagging certainty that what she felt remained one-sided.

It was easier – painful, but easier – to believe that Korra had simply lost her mind; that the combination of paint fumes, champagne and bad poetry had caused a chemical reaction resulting in temporary insanity. Korra would wake up with a sort of hangover and likely not remember a single thing. That, at least, would be preferable to the alternative: an awkward, ‘don’t-want-you-to-get-the-wrong-idea’ type of conversation.

Far less painful, but way more terrifying was the notion that Korra had actually meant what she’d said. It meant... it meant what, exactly?

At least rejection had a clear trajectory. Heartbreak was more solid, more concrete. She could stock up on ice cream and tissues, listen to sad-angry music. She’d eventually get over it and go back to a healthy kind of misery; the usual kind, the familiar kind.

This place she was at now, this murky space between hope and sheer panic was something new entirely. Korra had kissed her. More than that, she’d made Asami confess. There was no going back from that. Korra could easily hide; she could chalk it up to curiosity or experimentation, and Asami would smile and nod and say, “Of course. I understand.” But Asami couldn’t hide behind an excuse; wouldn’t want to, even if she could.

She rolled over in the bed, and the sheets rolled with her. The bedroom was dressed in the orange-yellow hues of morning, a bold reminder that the day was still before her, along with its questions and uncertainties.

Asami wanted not to think about last night, because the truth was that despite all of her fears and doubts she wouldn’t trade her time with Korra for anything. She’d never felt anything so powerful, so real, so heartbreakingly perfect. She wanted to go back to it later, when she knew how to feel about it, when she was sure it was safe to tread upon the footsteps of memory.

And then, there it was, Korra’s ringtone, cutting smoothly through the silence. Asami froze at the sound. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to hear Korra say that she’d changed her mind, that it had all been a big misunderstanding. She wasn’t ready to pretend it was okay, to feign cheerfulness and say it that it was fine, that they could just be friends. 

But the sound persisted and she couldn’t ignore it. She couldn’t ignore Korra, rather, and that was really the problem. “Hey.” Her voice came out sounding like someone else’s, some weak, uncertain version of herself.

“Hey, did I wake you?”

Korra sounded very much like she always did, and Asami didn’t know what to make of it.

Was it good? Was it bad? “Not at all. I was just...” She looked around, searching for a lie. She couldn’t find one. “...thinking.”

“Oh.” There was a brief pause after that, and Asami held her breath. “Anything in particular?”

Asami hated this; this awkward tension suddenly between them. So she said, “Dolphins.”

“Dolphins,” Korra repeated, dragging out the word. “And do you often find yourself thinking about marine mammals at this hour of the morning?”

“Sometimes. They are, after all, the second most intelligent creatures on Earth. After mice, of course.”

“Of course.”

Asami could hear Korra’s smile. She wished she could see it. “I wasn’t really thinking about dolphins.”

“What were you really thinking about? Whales? Manatees?”

“Dugongs.”

Korra laughed, and Asami wondered if this was the calm before the storm. “You’re stalling,” Korra said after a few seconds.

“You’re letting me.”

“Fair enough. So...”

Asami picked a piece of lint off her covers. Her heart was racing. Here it comes, she thought, the apologies and backpedaling, the sugar-coated regret. “So.”

“Last night...”

...was a mistake, Asami guessed.

...should have never happened?

...you were kidnapped by lesbian pod people?

“...was ...I can’t think of a good adjective. Wonderful? Is that too lame?”

Wonderful? Asami switched the phone to the other ear. “Wonderful?”

“Too lame? I knew it. Sorry, I-”

“No, I mean... you thought it was wonderful?”

“Well... yeah.” Korra sounded uncertain now. “Wait, are you saying you didn’t?”

Asami could hear a trace of worry in Korra’s voice and she hurried, “No! I mean, yes! I did. I just thought... I thought maybe you...” She felt stupid now. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“About...?”

“About...” Asami had no idea. They hadn’t established anything. They’d barely talked. “I’m not sure. I guess about what you said.”

“About being so turned on I could hardly think or about being yours?”

Asami’s stomach fluttered at the word ‘yours’. She swallowed. “Both. Either.” She desperately wished they weren’t having this conversation over the phone.

Korra didn’t say anything right away and Asami worried she’d screwed things up. “Can I see you today?”

“Yes! Well...” Asami ran a quick overview of her schedule. “I have to be on set. We’re filming today and - I’m not sure why - but I find directors prefer it when there’s an actor in front of the camera.”

“Really? How weird. Well, how about after?”

“It might be really late...”

“I don’t mind.”

“Then I’ll call you when I know a time.”

“Okay. Asami?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant what I said last night. All of it.”

Asami smiled, feeling for the first time all day like she could actually breathe. “Me too.”

***

Korra stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror trying to pinpoint exactly what Asami saw in her. She was okay-looking, objectively speaking. Pretty, even, in the right kind of light.

She moved her head from side to side, trying to get an outsider’s perspective. She’d always felt her left earlobe was longer than her right; unlike Asami, whose earlobes were perfect. All of Asami was perfect, which is why this made no sense. In the light of day, thinking both clearly and rationally, she knew it made no sense.

And yet.

And yet Asami had kissed her. Asami had told her she felt the same way. Asami had gone so far as to worry that Korra might change her mind, which was ridiculous; more than ridiculous, really... it was... well, whatever was more ridiculous than ridiculous.

And so, here she was, locked in her bathroom, contemplating lopsided earlobes and hiding from her best friend.

Korra had decided - at some point between last night and now - that she would have to tell Kuvira. She would have to tell her, at the very least, as much as she’d told Megan, because there was no going back now and Kuvira deserved to know.

Still, she was hiding. She was starting to understand why Tara had taken so long to come out to her. There was something paralyzing about it all. Kuvira would be okay with it, of course. Korra knew she would be. But lingering around the corners of her certainty was the fear that things would change; that Kuvira would see her differently.

“You want some coffee?” Kuvira asked from the other side of the door. “Just made a fresh pot.”

“Ah, sure, thanks.” She didn’t really want coffee. Her stomach hurt at the mere thought.

Perhaps she could just email Kuvira. “Oh sure, cause that worked out so well for you last time,” she mumbled, and her forehead hit the mirror with a soft bang. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would do this. She’d blurt it out, quick and painless. It would probably be awkward for a minute or two, and then it would pass.

She gathered the bits and pieces of her scattered determination and opened the door. She found Kuvira in the kitchen, sipping coffee and staring down at a newspaper. Korra briefly wondered if there was a How-To guide for this sort of thing. She should have Google’d this.

Sensing her presence, Kuvira said, “I put your favorite mug on the counter.”

“So it turns out I like girls,” Korra blurted, because she was quite certain there would be no smooth segue into this particular subject.

Kuvira raised her head slowly, so slowly that for a moment Korra thought she was stuck in slow motion. “You’re kidding.”

“No?” Korra felt a rising sense of panic. Kuvira had to be okay with it. She had to be. “I mean, I’m sure it comes as a surprise-”

“That you finally admitted it? Ah, yeah! I’ll say.”

Korra opened her mouth and then shut it again. She decided to sit down. “What do you mean ‘finally’?”

“I bet Tara fifty dollars like... a billion and a half years ago that you were gay. And she said there was no way in hell you were. And I just figured you’d be like eighty by the time you figured it out, since you’re such a fucking prude and everything.” Kuvira smiled smugly. “She owes me fifty bucks.”

Korra had envisioned this conversation a few different ways, but somehow this particular scenario had slipped past her. “You had a bet? Why? I mean... why? Why did you think I was?”

“Let’s see. Well, there was Victoria.”

“Victoria who? The little girl next door?”

“There’s a little girl next door?”

“Mrs. Platt’s granddaughter.”

“Oh, that’s right. No, I’m talking about that barista in Starbucks who spilled coffee on you. Wasn’t her name Victoria or something?”

“Veronica,” Korra corrected.

Kuvira smiled. “You even remember her name. Anyway, you were totally hitting on her.”

“I was not!” No, she had definitely not envisioned this scenario. Was it too late to switch to a different one? “Are you insane? I remember her hitting on me...”

“And you were so into it!”

“I was not!” Was I? Korra tried to think back. Kuvira was making her feel confused, which wasn’t much of a feat considering she was already confused.

“Step back in time with me,” Kuvira said, and moved her hands around the air in strange patterns.

“What are you doing?”

“Creating ripples. You know, to illustrate that we’re going back in time.”

“Kuvira...”

“Okay, you and Victoria-“

“Veronica.”

“Veronica, right. You were ordering some Iced Latte, and Veronica was taking your order and being all flirty and you were leaning into her, touching her arm and giggling like a teenager.”

“First, I’m pretty sure I was a teenager, and second, I don’t remember giggling. Laughing, maybe. She was funny.”

“Right. She was insanely dull. I remember nodding off during one of her 'jokes' about... coffee beans or some shit. Then again, you dated Mako, so maybe you just like dull people. Anyway, after Veronica there was Elma.”

“Our guidance counselor?” Korra was horrified.

“Yeah you were crushing on her hardcore. Hey, she was young. Cute. I get it. And then, oh, yeah, that girl you partnered with for that art project you had. The one with the spiky hair and nose ring; I caught her checking you out. You two could’ve made beautiful lesbomagic together.”

“In what world does her checking me out make me gay?”

“You’re the one who brought her here. I bet she would’ve been really good in bed.” Kuvira grinned. “And then, of course, there was your lesbian. I had really high hopes for her. Alas, she seems to have vanished into thin air...” Kuvira shrugged sadly. “What ever happened to her? Lover’s quarrel?”

If possible, Korra suddenly felt even more uncomfortable. “Um, she got busy with work.”

Kuvira nodded slowly. “You know your lip twitches a little when you’re lying?”

“No it doesn’t.” Does it? Korra bit her lip just in case.

“So who is she?”

“What she? Who?”

“The owner of the Prada knock-off on your bed last night. What’d you do, hide her on the fire escape? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner. How long have you been dating her?”

“I’m not,” Korra said quickly, and that panicky feeling started up again. “I mean... we’re not.” She cleared her throat. “This is all sort of new...”

“The gay thing?”

“The gay thing,” Korra said. “I’m still not sure what I am, exactly.”

“Lesbian? Bi? There’s not that many options.”

Korra shrugged. “Honestly, I just hate the thought of adopting some pre-existing label, along with all of its stereotypes and assumptions. I mean, can’t I just be me?”

It was Kuvira’s turn to shrug. “People are going to slap you with a label no matter what you say, so you’re better off picking one out for yourself.” Kuvira got up and poured coffee into the mug on the counter. She handed it to Korra. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll see you as I’ve always seen you.”

“A prude?”

“A prude,” Kuvira confirmed. But she smiled. “That got slightly more interesting.”

***

Asami stared at her phone, and then looked around the dressing room, and then stared at her phone some more. Korra hadn’t called – or texted – and Asami couldn’t decide whether it would seem too needy – or worse, desperate - to text for no reason. A couple of days ago she would’ve done it without a second thought, but now...

“Lunch has arrived, ladies,” Bolin announced, walking in with a brown bag in one hand. “Turkey sandwich for the queen.” He bowed before Asami.

“How is that a cheeseburger?” 

Bolin glanced at the plastic wrapped item in his hand and then at Opal. “Did you order a turkey sandwich?”

“Tuna salad.” Opal didn’t bother looking up from her own cell phone as she answered.

“Hmm.” Bolin looked into the bag. “Well, I got a chicken Caesar wrap. And something that strongly resembles a Sloppy Joe.”

Asami sighed and yanked the bag out of his hands. She reached for the wrap. “When do I get to trade you in for a real assistant?”

“Hopefully soon,” Opal answered. “You’ve got that interview with Megan Walker tomorrow. And for the record, I’m still not sure hiring your crush’s sister's girlfriend is a particularly good idea.” Opal grabbed the turkey sandwich out of Bolin’s hands as he walked by to join her on the couch.

Asami looked at her phone again, daring it to ring or vibrate or do something besides mock her. “I haven’t hired anyone yet,” she said. “The least I can do is meet with her, right?”

“If you say so,” Opal said, unwrapping her sandwich. It was the first time Asami had seen her without her cell phone in hand. “She was hardly the most qualified of the bunch. What if she sucks?”

“Then I fire her.”

“Yeah? Just like that? And you don’t think that’ll make things at all awkward with Korra?”

“I’ll just rehire her for something else.”

“Like?”

“Like whatever!” Asami was starting to feel impatient. This was not the issue at the forefront of her thoughts and she wanted to move on from it. “Besides, there’s no guarantee that she’d even want to travel around with me, so this might just be temporary, if it is at all.”

“I think she wants us to drop the subject,” Bolin whispered to Opal.

“Here’s a new subject, then,” Opal said. “Why do you keep looking at your phone every five seconds?”

“I was just going to ask her about that!”

Asami put the phone down, annoyed that she was so obvious. “I was just checking the time.”

“Since when are you so anal about time? Besides, there’s a clock right above the door.”

“I bet it has something to do with Korra,” Bolin said.

“Or Taylor.”

Asami did her best to glare at them, but it wasn’t her best effort. She was too distracted by the mess of other thoughts circling around her brain. Did she tell them? Did she wait?

“My money’s on Korra,” Bolin said. 

They stared expectantly at Asami, who sighed and glanced at the phone again. This was stupid. She was obsessing and she knew it. “Korra kissed me last night,” she said, hearing the words out loud for the first time and thinking that it didn’t make the whole thing any less surreal.

There was a long period of silence during which both Bolin and Opal stared at her.

“Seriously,” Asami said, anxious to get the first few moments of this conversation over with, “this is your reaction?”

“Hang on, I’m just picturing it in my mind,” Bolin said, only to get punched in the arm by Opal. “Ow! Like you weren’t doing the same thing.”

Opal ignored him. “She kissed you... like, really kissed you?”

“Like really kissed me,” Asami said, tossing her untouched wrap on the table. “And I really kissed her back. And I don’t know what happens next, or what she wants to happen next, or even what I want to happen next.”

“Sex,” Bolin said. “That’s normally what you would both want to happen next.”

“Thanks,” Asami said. “That’s really helpful. I feel like... everything’s spinning out of control. This is what I wanted. She’s what I’ve wanted. But the truth is that... I just don’t know. Do I let this happen because I want it to, or do I stop it because I know where it will end? I can’t give her a normal life; even if she’s okay with it all for now things are going to unravel eventually. The press is going to pick up on it... they’ll drag us both through the mud. I don’t want that for her. I don’t want her to get caught in all the bullshit. So, do I stop it knowing we’re both going to get hurt or do I let it happen out of selfishness?”

“I really think,” Bolin said, “that you should start with the sex.”

***

She’d chickened out of meeting with her professor. She’d had every intention of knocking on the door during office hours and apologizing face-to-face for the terribly inappropriate email she’d sent the day before. But she couldn’t do it. She’d made it all the way to the man’s door, but couldn’t will her arm to move.

So she’d called Megan and agreed to meet her at Saks Fifth Avenue. And now she trailed behind her, looking at display after display of clothing neither could afford. “Do you think labels are important?” she asked Megan, because she had been thinking about what Kuvira had said.

“Yes,” Megan said, distracted by the shirt in her hands. “I see it as an investment in my future. I’m thinking... Armani. Although, she does like her Prada. And I saw her wearing Dolce & Gabbana jeans at her last interview and this really sexy tank, which I’m also pretty sure was D&G.” She put the shirt back on the rack. “What was she wearing last time you saw her?”

Korra tried to conjure up an image of Asami, but all she could think about was kissing her. “Um. Jeans? A t-shirt?”

“What kind?”

“Blue? White?”

Megan sighed at her and gave her a disapproving look. “Brand?”

“How should I know? Besides, that wasn’t my question. I meant... labels like... well, the sexuality kind.”

“Ah,” Megan said. “Go on.”

Korra followed after her as she talked. “Well, I was talking to Kuvira about everything—“

Megan stopped and spun around, causing Korra to nearly collide into her. “Whoa, whoa. You told Kuvira?”

“This morning.”

“So she knows...?”

“About as much as you do,” Korra said, hoping that was good enough.

“Go on.”

“Well.” Korra tried to find a way to phrase the question without sounding like an idiot. She didn’t know exactly what she was asking. “How do you figure it out? At what point do you wake up and say ‘okay, this is what I am,’ and then make it your identity and actually feel like it’s yours, rather than someone else’s idea of how you should be?”

Megan blinked at her somewhat blankly. “And here I thought we were just going to have a lighthearted shopping trip,” she said. “Do you like girls?”

“Yes, it would seem so,” Korra said.

“Guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Supreme Council of Gayhood, I now pronounce you bisexual. Congratulations and welcome to the other side. Your card’s in the mail.”

Korra sighed at her. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Your question has no answer, Korra. Or at least no answer I can give you. I can, however, give you some advice: Don’t tell your girlie friend right away that you’re bisexual because the second you do she’ll probably think you want a threesome with her and some random guy. And then she’ll freak out and go running to the first gay guy she finds and then he’ll have to spend three perfectly good hours listening to endless, monotonous whining about how she should’ve never gone home with a girl that wears heels.”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Megan said, running a hand through her hair. “It’s been a long day.”

Korra replayed the words through her mind, trying to make sense of them. “I don’t wear heels.”

She regarded her seriously. “Forget the heels. Look, Korra, you are what you are. People will see you as they see you, which in my experience says a lot more about who they are than who you are. Being true to yourself and giving yourself permission to be who you are and to love who you love... that’s what it’s all about. The rest... the rest is unimportant in the grand scheme of things.”

***

“I don’t want a threesome,” was the first thing Korra said as she stepped into Asami’s apartment.

The words took a while to register in Asami’s mind, partly because she was distracted by the sight of Korra, and partly because the statement made no contextual sense. She closed the door and leaned her back against it, waiting.

“And I don’t want you to think that I’m going to run off with the first guy that winks in my direction,” Korra continued in the same impassioned tone. “And this isn’t a fling, or... you know, part of the whole college experimentation thing.”

Asami wasn’t quite sure what to make of these declarations. “Did I miss a conversation somewhere?” she asked.

“This morning you said you were worried that I’d changed my mind,” she said. “And I’ve been thinking about that all day... about all of it. And it finally hit me on the way over here why you’d think that. And I wanted you to know that I would never regret what happened last night, no matter where we go from this moment forward.”

Asami couldn’t help but smile. “And threesomes played a part in this... how exactly?”

“That was Megan’s fault. And Kuvira’s. Well, no, it was mostly Megan’s. She said that you—well, not you you, ‘cause I didn’t mention you specifically—but that... actually, I don’t remember. Something about threesomes and bisexuals and heels. Regardless, I just wanted to make it clear, in case you ever thought I might want one, that I don’t.”

“Good to know,” Asami said, more amused than anything else. She couldn’t take her eyes off Korra. Images from the previous evening flashed vividly through her mind. She pushed them aside for the moment. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m okay.” Korra started taking off her coat. “I can’t believe we did that to your wall,” she said. “How long are you leaving that there?”

Asami followed Korra’s gaze. She rather liked what they’d done to the wall. “Until you want to change it.”

“Me?”

“Well, you’re the artist.”

“I suppose I am.” Korra met her gaze and held it. Neither said anything for a very long time. “What are we doing, Asami?”

“Staring awkwardly at each other.”

Korra smiled, but shook her head. She started toward the living room, and Asami watched her for a couple of seconds before following. “Talk to me,” Korra said, as she sat on the couch.

Asami didn’t know where to begin, so she started by sitting down. She’d been thinking about Korra all day, trying to zero in on what she wanted. But what she wanted had always been clear; it’s what she feared that made things difficult. She wished she had a script to read off of, some past experience to go by, but there was nothing.

“Do you want to be with me?” Korra asked softly.

The question took Asami by surprise, silencing all other thoughts. “More than anything.”

There was a flash of relief on Korra’s face; relief and something else. “But it’s complicated,” she guessed, her tone light.

Asami tried for a smile, but didn’t quite manage one. “People follow me constantly. They take pictures of me constantly. They write about my life and the people in it, and they don’t care who they hurt in the process. There’s only so long we can go without you appearing in a photo beside me and it’s only a matter of time before they start following you and writing about you. It kills me, Korra, the thought of dragging you into all of that.”

Korra nodded, but the question was still in her eyes.

Asami’s heart ached. She didn’t want to lose Korra. She didn’t know how to keep her. “I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Is it really me you’re worried about, or is it fear that you’ll be outed?”

Asami frowned at the question, partly thrown by it. “Honestly, if you’d asked me that a few months ago, I would’ve said that being outed was my biggest fear in the world.”

“But not anymore?”

“No.” And Asami was surprised to find that it was true.

“So what is it now?”

That one was easy to answer. “Hurting you,” she said. “Watching you suffer because you’re a part of my life, and ultimately losing you because of it.”

“But that might happen even if we’re just friends,” Korra said.

Asami had thought of that. She’d thought of it and then proceeded to push it from her mind. It hurt to hear Korra say that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“I’m saying,” Korra said, “that that’s not reason enough for us not to be together. If you tell me that you don’t want to be with me because you fear for your career, or that you’re worried it will out you to the world and you don’t want that... then that’s one thing. But if you’re saying you don’t want to be with me because you’re worried about what people will say about me and how I will feel about it...?”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” And that seemed like reason enough for Asami.

“Asami, I didn’t kiss you last night because I thought it might be fun to try it. I kissed you because I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone. I know a relationship with you would be complicated. I know at times it might be downright frustrating. Hell, it might even be painful. But that’s what relationships are. And I don’t want to give up on it simply because you’re worried what people might say about me.”

There was, what felt, like a sudden glimmer of hope, though the worries were still there. “So you want to be with me is what you’re saying?” Despite everything that had transpired and everything that had already been said, she found it incredibly hard to believe that this was real; that Korra might actually consider something more serious.

Korra ventured a smile. “Well, I think I deserve at least a real date.”

A date. It sounded so harmless. So tempting. “Are you asking me out?”

“Are you going to keep speaking in questions?”

Asami smiled at that. At the back of her mind was the voice that spoke of warnings and bad ideas. But it had grown considerably smaller and now was barely audible. “If you’re asking me out, then I accept.”

“Great. Are you busy now?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Maybe.” Korra grinned at her. “What movies do you have?”

Asami hesitated, but only briefly. There would be time to sort through the rest of the questions and worries and concerns. For now, she was content to go with the flow, for however long it lasted. She stood and offered Korra her hand. “Let’s go look.”

***

Korra had no idea if they’d actually gotten anywhere with that conversation, but she felt cautiously optimistic as she followed the actress up the stairs. It should have been easy, moving forward, over and beyond the neutrality of friendship, toward Whatever Came Next.

But dating Asami meant dating her management team, her fans, and the public at large, and Korra understood Asami’s fears. At some point, when the novelty of being in a new relationship wore off—and maybe long before—Korra would have to face a very difficult reality.

And so there remained between them a question with no answer.

Korra paused at the top of the stairs to look around Asami’s room. This wasn’t her first time there, but it almost felt like it was. Everything between them felt different. But the room was much as she remembered it: neat, comfortable. The lighting was soft, yellow, pouring from a lamp in the corner. Across from her, the impossibly large flat-screen TV stared back at her from the middle of the entertainment center. Unavoidably, her gaze fell on the bed, and thoughts of kissing Asami danced across her mind.

“So, what are you in the mood for?”

For a moment, Korra was certain that Asami had read her mind, but the actress was standing near the TV, staring down at an open drawer containing row after row of DVDs. Korra walked over and scanned the titles. The selection was mind-boggling. She decided to sit down. “This might take a while.”

Asami sat down next to her, and Korra fought the impulse to lean closer. “They’re in alphabetical order.”

“Seriously?” Korra looked through the titles again and found that yes, they were in fact in alphabetical order. “Were you that bored?”

“Opal was that bored,” Asami explained.

Korra smiled and turned back to the task at hand. She had no idea what movie to pick. She didn’t really care what they watched. “Idea,” she said, and grabbed Asami’s hands. “Cover my eyes.”

“Is this how you usually make decisions?” Asami sounded amused as she moved behind Korra.

Perhaps it would be from now on, Korra thought, enjoying the fact that Asami was closer now. “Any excuse for you to touch me,” she said.

“You don’t need an excuse for that.”

Asami’s hands were suddenly over Korra’s eyes and Korra briefly forgot all about the movie.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, surprised that she could think at all. She reached forward and felt across the rows, her fingers trailing over the spines. “Let’s go with... this one.” She opened her eyes when Asami’s hands moved. She started laughing. Seabord Cyborg. “What are the odds?”

Asami snatched the DVD out of her hands. “That shouldn’t be there!”

Korra half turned and reached for the movie, but Asami held it up. “Oh, come on. It will be fun.”

“Not in a million years.”

Korra turned to face Asami and, kneeling, managed to grab the movie back. “Ha!” But a second later, she felt Asami’s fingers brushing lightly over her stomach and she shrieked. “No fair!” she yelled, laughing, doubling over.

And then, without warning, Asami was kissing her. Or, maybe, she was kissing Asami; it was hard to tell, and it didn’t really matter. Nothing else really mattered. She didn’t notice that the movie was no longer in her hand as her fingers tangled in Asami’s hair.

Korra pulled her lips away moments later. She pressed her forehead against Asami’s and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “We can make this work,” she said, not caring that she sounded somewhat desperate.

She felt, more than heard, Asami sigh. “Not if you make me watch that movie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry y’all had to wait an extra day for this chapter! I have been crazy busy the last two days. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this :)


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Kuvira was sitting on the couch when Korra walked out of her room the following morning. “Tell me there’s coffee,” Korra said, on her way to the kitchen.

“It was real, wasn’t it?”

Korra stopped and turned to face Kuvira, simultaneously searching her brain for the missing pieces of the conversation. Coming up blank, she said, “What?”

Kuvira stared at her from the couch and then she sighed, somewhat dramatically. “The jacket,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“Is this one of those times when you decide to engage me in a random improv exercise without telling me and I spend half an hour wondering what the hell you’re talking about, only to find out later you’re just fucking with my head? ‘Cause if it is, I don’t have time today.”

“I’m talking about the Prada jacket on your bed,” Kuvira said. “Are you dating some sort of older, rich, power lesbian that can’t be seen with you? Holy shit, is she a politician?”

Korra was stunned. “You got all that from a jacket?”

“Oh, my God, she’s a politician? How old is she? No, scratch that, how rich is she? No, wait, how did you even meet a politician, you hate politics. Wait... too many questions... I can’t focus.”

Korra shook her head and walked the rest of the way to the kitchen to find an empty pot. “You didn’t make coffee?”

“I did, but I drank it.”

“The whole thing?”

“Don’t change the subject! You’re dating a politician!”

Korra expelled a breath. “I’m not dating a politician.”

“Oh.” Kuvira sounded disappointed. “So... what, then? Some corporate big shot? Ooh, is she like the CEO of something?”

Korra hated lying and sooner or later she would have to tell Kuvira the truth. But now was not the time. Besides, she’d have to talk to Asami about it. “What makes you think I’m dating anyone? Maybe I’m playing the field.”

Kuvira snorted. “You? Right.” But she seemed to consider the idea. “Can I give you some advice, as someone who’s been gay longer than you?”

Korra leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. “You’re not gay.”

“Uh, helloooooo!” Kuvira held up the screenplay and waved it around. “My advice is not to settle for the first lesbian that crosses your path, okay? Sure, she might be fun for now and it’s new and all that, but odds are that you’ll be able to do better. I mean, look at me, I came out when I was fifteen and my first girlfriend, Sarah Solantis, was... you know, ugly. And now, years later, I’m hooking up with Asami Sato. You need a goal. Now, I’m not saying you’ll ever get someone like Asami Sato, obviously, but still, a goal is good.”

Korra nodded slowly, buying enough time to fully process the layers of irony and nonsense. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“Seriously, Korra, who the fuck is she? You’re killing me here. Give me a hint. Tell me if she’s at the very least not as dull as Mako.”

Korra smiled. Driving Kuvira nuts gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. “I’ve got to get to school. I’ll catch you later.”

“Wait!” Kuvira yelled as Korra started to walk away. “You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”

Korra turned around slowly, worried suddenly. “Ah...where?”

“My scene with Asami, we’re filming it tomorrow. You’ll be there, yes?”

Korra couldn’t quite imagine anything more awkward than watching her best friend get it on with her... Was Asami her girlfriend? Had they established that officially? “I have class,” she said.

“It’s Saturday.”

Damn. She couldn’t come up with another excuse fast enough. “Uhm...”

Kuvira sighed. “You promised. C’mon! You don’t have to stay for the whole thing. Come for an hour or two.” And, because she knew it would work, added, “It would mean a lot to me.”

It was useless, this business of arguing with Kuvira. She was unrelenting whenever she really wanted something, and Korra felt too heavy with guilt over all of the lying to put up much resistance. “Okay, sure, I’ll be there.”

***

“Hmm,” Bolin murmured, and looked up from his laptop. He’d arrived at Asami’s apartment nearly an hour earlier than planned and cited Opal’s failed Internet connection as the reason. Asami strongly suspected he just wanted to catch her making breakfast so he could have some. “What’s a shorter way of saying ‘tigress in the bedroom’?”

Asami looked at him curiously over the kitchen counter between them. “Are you doing some kind of pornographic crossword puzzle?”

“No, I’m twittering about our sexcapades. Or is it tweeting? Twittering. Tweeting. Hmm.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I seem to get an influx of followers whenever I write about sleeping with you. So you’ll be happy to know we have a very healthy sex life.”

“I’ll be sure to note that in my diary,” Asami said dryly, and sipped her coffee.

“Granted, I’m just guessing you’d be a tigress in bed what with all those years of pent up sexual frustration. So maybe I should be asking Korra...?”

Asami smiled, both at the mention of Korra and at Bolin’s obvious attempt to get information out of her. “Subtle.”

“Knock, knock!” Opal called from the front door, interrupting whatever Bolin might’ve said next. She walked into view seconds later. “What’s new?”

“Asami was just about to tell me about having sex with Korra.”

Opal stared, wide-eyed. “You had sex with Korra? Seriously?”

Asami strongly considered not answering the question, but decided that would simply invite more pestering. “I haven’t slept with Korra.”

“Oh,” Opal said, and took a seat on the empty stool beside Bolin. “Well, you don’t want to rush into anything. It’s your first time.”

“You want to rush into it,” Bolin said, closing the laptop. The sound of it snapping shut punctuated his statement. “It’s your first time. Get it the hell over with. Is it ‘cause you’re scared you’ll be really bad? I can walk you through it.”

“Ahem, I think I’d be a little bit more qualified to walk her through it,” Opal said.

Asami frowned at them, slightly offended. “I don’t need either of you to walk me through anything. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Well, satisfying women can be tricky,” Bolin said.

Opal looked at him. “Not if you know what you’re doing.”

“I always know what I’m doing.”

“Right. Two words for you: Atlantic City.”

“I was drunk and that doesn’t count anyway because of the... well, you know.” Bolin cleared his throat and turned his attention back on Asami. “Are you worried she’s going to be into weird stuff?”

Opal grunted her agreement. “I slept with this guy once that wanted me to peel an apple while we—“

“Oh, my God! That was one time!”

“Wow,” Asami said, setting down her cup. “Okay. That’s my cue to go shower.”

“Wait, wait,” Opal said, her voice all business now. “The studio heads want to meet with you next week about The Bridge of Moes. The director wants to have a sit-down as well. I spoke to Taylor and she said she can work it out as long as it doesn’t go over three days and that you’re back by Friday. Problem is the studio can only meet with you on Tuesday and the director is in New Zealand until Thursday. So do you want me to try and reschedule either of them, or are you okay with leaving late on Monday and coming back late Thursday?”

“That sounds good to me.”

“I love it when you cooperate,” Opal said, and grinned.

“You should invite Korra to come with you,” Bolin suggested. “Give her a little taste of L.A. life. Get her naked in your Jacuzzi; get a little taste of her.”

Opal smacked him upside the head. “You’re such a perv.”

“And particularly annoying today.”

“It’s because I wouldn’t sleep with him last night,” Opal explained. She glared at him. “Since, you know, we're fighting .”

“Okay, she doesn’t need to know that,” Bolin mumbled.

“Yes, because you guys not sleeping together is too much information,” Asami replied, but her thoughts shifted back to Bolin’s earlier suggestion. Korra in L.A. at her house...

She caught Bolin watching her. He grinned. “You’re thinking about her naked in your Jacuzzi, aren’t you?”

“Smack him for me, will you?”

“On it,” Opal said.

***

Korra managed to track down her professor mostly through blind luck. She spotted the man hurrying past the Kimmel Center at an impressive, age-defying speed, and Korra made the on-the-spot decision to chase after him. By the time she caught up, she was out of breath and squeaked out a weak sounding, “Professor Tenzin!”

The man slowed, giving Korra a chance to fall into step beside her. “Korra,” he said, in a tired, dismissive tone. “Come to propose?”

Korra blinked at the question, feeling mortifed. “I just wanted to apologize for that highly inappropriate email-“

“You already apologized in your second highly inappropriate email, Korra. I don’t appreciate being stalked for redundant purposes. Perhaps instead you’d like to explain why you haven’t been to class all week or why you haven’t turned in your project?”

“I...” Korra didn’t have much of an explanation other than she’d been preoccupied with matters of the heart. A heart condition? That sounded like a good excuse.

Professor Tenzin stopped abruptly and turned to face Korra. “Do you want to know what the difference is between the work that got you into this program and the work you’ve turned in lately?”

“No,” Korra said, then quickly added, “I mean yes.”

“Passion!” cried the man, in a voice loud enough to cause several people to stare. “Were you having regular intercourse when you first started here?”

Korra didn’t even know how to even begin processing the question. She looked around at the people passing by, as if one of them might save her from this conversation. “Uhm...”

“Sex, Korra,” the professor said, impatiently. “You are an artist of passion. Find passion and paint it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late for meditation.”

Korra watched him walk away and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, too stunned to move. She almost missed the fact that her cell phone was ringing. She glanced at the screen and hesitated. “Hi, Tara,” she said, and decided to start walking again.

“Hey, little sis. How’s your day going?”

“It’s going... weirdly. I think one of my professors just advised me to get laid.”

“That sounds... awkward.”

“Awkward is the theme of my day,” Korra said, thinking back on her conversation with Kuvira.

“Well, in keeping with that theme, I’m calling to ask if you know why Kuvira called to collect on a bet we made years ago and then hung up when I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.”

She was going to murder Kuvira. “I’m sorry, Tara,” she began, feeling a rush of nervousness, “I meant to tell you sooner...”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

Korra considered the best way to phrase everything that had transpired in the past few days. She decided there was no best way. “That I’m sort of maybe kind of... seeing... a girl.”

“Sort of maybe kind of?”

“It’s complicated,” Korra said, letting out a breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Hey, if anyone should understand, it’s me, right?” Tara said, lightly. “Are you happy?”

“Sort of maybe kind of.”

Tara let out a long laugh. “Okay...”

Korra thought about the question more carefully, trying to weigh her emotions against her perceived notion of happiness. “I’d say... I’m cautiously content.”

“Well that sounds amazingly levelheaded. Listen, we should get together one of these days and have lunch or something. We can talk.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Korra said, relieved that Tara wasn’t asking more questions.

“Good. I have to get going. Megan is having a panic attack over this whole Asami Sato interview. Talk to you later?”

“Definitely.” She hung up and looked around, momentarily disoriented. She’d been walking aimlessly and now couldn’t remember where it was she’d meant to go in the first place. Before she could decide on a new direction, her phone rang again, and she smiled at the name on the display. “Before you say anything,” she began, “I’d like to let you know that I’ve officially reached my quota of awkward conversations for today, so whatever you’re calling to say better not be awkward. Okay? Go.”

“I’d like to propose an orgy,” Asami said, “with my stepmother... and a cat.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

Asami laughed and said, “I was actually calling to see how your day was going.”

“Let’s see,” Korra said. “Kuvira wants me to come by and watch the two of you make out tomorrow. And then my professor, the one I propositioned accidentally, told me the way to improve my art was to get laid. And then Kuvira decided to out me to my sister...”

“Wow,” Asami said. “And it’s not even noon.”

“Tell me about it. Oh! Speaking of awkward things, I forgot to tell you last night to please not feel awkward or weird about the whole Megan interview thing because I don’t want you to feel forced to hire her just because you and I are...” She wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

“...having somewhat incestuous, bestiality orgies?”

“I don’t think a stepmother counts as incestuous.”

“Well, that’s why I said ‘somewhat.’”

“I really hope your line isn’t bugged,” Korra said, smiling. “Imagine the headlines.”

Asami laughed. “I promise I won’t hire Megan just because you and I are... dating.”

Dating. The word made Korra’s heart skip a beat. “Dating,” she said. “Is that what we are?”

“Well you did ask me out last night.”

“Technically, I asked you up to your room last night,” Korra corrected. “And then we spent an hour making out. So... yeah, I guess that means we’re dating.”

“Good, glad that’s settled. So, where are you now?”

Korra took in her surroundings. “I am entering Washington Square Park.” She spotted an empty bench and headed for it. “You?”

“Trying to decide what to wear. Want to come over and help me? I can send a car for you.”

Korra smiled. “I’ve been around you long enough to know you’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself.” She wanted to say that she could come over later and help her undress but then shyness kicked in.

“Just trying to come up with an excuse to see you.”

“You don’t need an excuse for that,” Korra said, grinning. “But I really have a lot of homework to catch up on so... maybe tonight?”

“Tonight it is,” Asami said.

Korra hung up the phone, smiling fully. She didn’t even care if she looked ridiculous. She sat on the bench and watched strangers pass by for a few minutes before digging her sketchpad out of the bag. A white page stared up at her in waiting.

She thought of Asami as she began to draw.

***

Megan was already seated and waiting when Asami arrived at the restaurant, but she jumped to her feet the second she spotted her. Asami noted that she was young, good-looking, and dressed to the nines in an outfit that must have cost about as much as her own. She ignored the whispers of surprised excitement that trailed after her, and focused all of her attention on Megan. “You must be Megan,” she said, and smiled.

“Oh, my God, it’s really you,” Megan said as she shook her hand. “I’m sorry, I’m trying not to freak out too much.”

Asami laughed and sat down. The waiter handed her a menu and she thanked him before turning her attention back on her dining companion. She was relieved that she was nervous because the truth of the matter was that so was she. This was someone important in Korra’s life and she wanted her to like her. “So,” she said, “should we just get the stressful interview portion over with?”

“Is there another portion?”

“Eating?”

Megan dropped her menu on the table. “Then by all means. I’m too nervous to do anything besides sweat.” She made a face. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

Asami sat up and cleared her throat in mock seriousness. “So, Megan, why do you want to work for me?”

“Okay, do you want the serious, corporate job answer that I’ve been rehearsing in front of the mirror all week or would you prefer the truth?”

Asami smiled. “The truth.”

“Okay.” Megan took a deep breath. “I’ve been a fan of yours for, like, ever and working for you would be a dream come true. Actually, sitting here with you now is a dream come true. Being around you all the time would be like... well, whatever comes after a dream coming true. And I know that’s a pretty lame reason, but you asked for the truth. So... that’s the truth. But! In addition to being a total fangirl, I’m both qualified and willing to do pretty much anything you ask, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

Asami considered the answer and shrugged. “Works for me,” she said, and smiled. “Can you start next week?”

Megan blinked at her. “Wait, that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I’m hired?”

“You’re hired.”

“Oh, my God,” she said. Oh, my God...”

Asami grinned and picked up the menu again, giving her time to absorb the information. There was little chance that Asami wouldn’t have hired her, and there was no sense in prolonging her nervousness. Now, for the fun part. “So, tell me about yourself,” she said, pretending to scan the menu. “I hear you have a girlfriend.”

***

The trek to Asami’s always gave Korra ample time to think. It was during these moments when the worrisome aspects of her life would emerge, taking over her every thought. On the one hand, she was happy; she was happy in a blinding, freeing sort of way. A very vivid part of her wanted to laugh and dance around the train car, hugging random strangers and maybe breaking into song. But trailing behind these pleasant, if absurd, moments, were other, more persistent reminders of all that could go wrong.

The subway train screeched to a halt and Korra watched as passengers exchanged places. It was comforting, the constant refreshing of faces she’d likely never see again. Two girls came to stand next to her, continuing a conversation that must have started long before.

“Well, you can’t tell your mom,” one told the other, and already Korra could relate. She wondered what they’d think if she joined in. If she opened with, “I know what you mean. I can’t tell my mom I’m dating a woman.” And not just any woman. Asami Sato. She wasn’t sure which part might freak her family out more, come to think of it.

It was easier to think of Asami as simply Asami. If Korra stripped away the fame and its attached responsibilities and thought only of the person—the Asami in ripped jeans and glasses—then things didn’t feel quite as overwhelming. But there was no picking and choosing when it came to a relationship and Korra knew that. She knew, too, that it would take time to get used to it all; whatever ‘all’ turned out to be.

“Just tell her we fell asleep studying,” the same girl said. “She won’t know Travis was there. Besides, it’s sort of the truth.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” the other replied, and Korra moved away, just in case.

The train sped up and slowed down and soon stopped altogether, and Korra walked out of the now open doors and away from the girls and their problems. Their voices melted into new, more persistent sounds, and by the time Korra stepped out into the cool New York air, she’d forgotten them entirely.

The walk to Asami’s building came with its own distinct palette of conflicting emotions.

There was, at one end of the spectrum, the giddy anticipation of seeing Asami again. And at the other: fear in its many shades of color. Fear, mostly, that she’d arrive at Asami’s door to find that the actress had changed her mind; that this brittle road they walked upon had crumbled without her knowledge.

But even through the thickening fog of uncertainty, Korra was perfectly clear on one thing: She was in love with Asami. She was in love and there was no turning back from that. The exact moment she’d gone from having no idea how she felt to being entirely decided on the subject had come and gone without preamble. There remained simply the realization that these feelings had been there almost from the start, and were now as obvious as they were irresistible.

Asami’s apartment building came into view moments later and she hurried toward the door. Inside, she found the doorman arguing with a man in clown suit. Their voices echoed loudly, reverberating off the high ceiling. She paused only long enough to verify that she wouldn’t be noticed, and then continued toward the elevator. The arguing grew louder, but she only caught the words “hooker” and “parrot” before the doors closed.

The ride up was a quiet one, and before long, the doors re-opened. Walking toward Asami’s apartment was usually her least favorite part of the trip. Somewhere between getting off the elevator and knocking on the door, all matter of extreme emotion would rise to the surface and settle painfully in her stomach. On this occasion, it felt somewhat worse.

She knocked.

It didn’t take long for Asami to open the door, but it was plenty of time for Korra’s paranoia to take over. She envisioned Asami standing there, looking troubled and somber, breaking the ice with something vague but telling, something like, “We have to talk.” Perhaps in the hours since they’d last spoken Asami had realized that whatever there was between them wasn’t worth the effort; that there was too much to lose and too little to gain. This had become Korra’s biggest fear.

The knob turned, and Asami was suddenly in the doorway, smiling, somehow looking more beautiful than Korra remembered. Her hair was up, held at the back by crossed chopsticks. Korra had expected her to still be dressed in whatever outfit she met Megan in, but the actress had changed into her usual ensemble of t-shirt and jeans. “What took you so long?”

“Is that your way of saying you missed me?” Korra asked, finding confidence in Asami’s smile. She felt light, her worries slipping away. She left them in the hallway and stepped inside. The apartment was cooler than usual and she wondered if that was on purpose.

Perhaps she was becoming the sort of person that read too much into everything.

Asami closed the door. “I always miss you,” she said, in a way that made Korra’s heartbeat skip.

“I bet you say that to all your other girlfriends,” she teased, and was reminded of their earlier conversation. It still felt strange to think of Asami as her girlfriend. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what that meant exactly. But here in Asami’s apartment, in Asami’s presence, she felt none of the fears or worries that clouded their time apart.

“Only the hot ones.”

“Ah, well, now I feel truly special.” But she smiled, because she did feel special. Lucky, too. She met Asami’s gaze. The actress was staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Asami said, and shrugged. “You’re just really beautiful.”

The comment surprised Korra, and she blushed, unable to help it. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to Asami saying things like that to her. She didn’t know what to say, besides, “Thank you.”

Asami smiled, sensing her embarrassment. “I’m making dinner.”

“Is that what that smell is?” Korra asked, thankful for the change of subject. She wasn’t used to being in the spotlight, however pleasant the attention. The air smelled vaguely of food, but nothing particularly recognizable. She followed Asami into the kitchen. On the counter waited a vast array of vegetables and fruits and fresh spices. “Wow, hungry much?”

“Well, not exactly.” Asami turned to her, looking somewhat sheepish. “See, I was bored so I decided it might be fun to see what might happen if I used a random ingredient from each of the first fifteen pages of this cookbook.”

Korra glanced briefly at the book in question and then back at Asami, thinking her fascinatingly strange. “You’re so weird.”

“Says she who collects toilet paper.”

“I did that in the name of art. And, anyway, I never said that you being weird was a bad thing.” She met Asami’s gaze again and was momentarily struck by how badly she wanted to kiss her. She wished that she didn’t feel so shy at times, wondering how she’d ever managed to make that first move. She wanted to skip ahead to the part where they felt entirely comfortable with each other. She glanced away and focused on the oven. “So is that your creation in there?”

“Yeah.” Asami crossed her arms and tilted her head thoughtfully. “Does it smell bad?” 

“Not bad,” Korra answered, and came to stand beside her, close enough that their arms touched. “Not good, either. Kind of like garlic... and feet. What’s in it?”

“Garlic... and feet.” She smiled when Korra laughed. Then she turned serious and said, “I hired Megan.”

Korra wasn’t entirely surprised by the statement. Megan had left her a somewhat hysterical and high-pitched voicemail message which Korra had struggled and failed to comprehend. The switching of trains hadn’t given her much of a chance to call back. But she’d guessed the news was good. She looked at Asami and said, “I hope you didn’t do it because of me.”

“I didn’t,” and Asami sounded sincere, but there was something else in her tone that Korra couldn’t place. “We should probably tell her about us...”

The statement sounded like a question and Korra thought it over for a second before saying, “I’d really like to tell Kuvira before anyone else.”

“Do you want me to be there when you tell her?”

The question caught Korra off-guard. She’d expected more of an argument; a logical explanation as to why it’d be best to wait a while before telling people. “When?”

Asami shrugged and her arm brushed against Korra’s again, making her skin tingle. “Whenever you want.”

Whenever I want. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind?”

“I mean...” Korra hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I just thought you wouldn’t want other people to know yet.”

“I told Bolin and Opal, why shouldn’t you tell Kuvira?”

Korra knew the answer, but didn’t know how to phrase it. She felt overwhelming relief at the thought of telling Kuvira everything about Asami. But she worried about pushing the actress’ trust. “But are you sure? I don’t mind waiting if you’re worried at all that things won’t work out between us...”

Asami frowned at her. “Why? Are you planning on dumping me soon?”

Korra instinctively laughed at the question, thinking it ridiculous. But her heart beat faster at the suggestion that Asami was hers to dump. She grinned and said, “I think I can put up with you for another day or two.”

“Oh, good.” Asami smiled in the way that Korra loved. But then her expression changed. “You can tell Kuvira whatever you want, whenever you want. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you had to do otherwise.”

“You didn’t,” Korra said quickly. She shrugged, feeling awkward. “I just wanted you to know you could trust me, so I never said anything.”

Asami looked at her quietly, and Korra wondered what she was thinking. Finally, she said, “As I recall, I’m the one who lied to you...”

Korra narrowed her eyes at the reminder. “You’re right,” she said. “And I’m still sort of mad at you for that.” But she smiled to show that she wasn’t really serious. She looked away for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. “I guess I’ll tell Kuvira. Maybe after your scene tomorrow.”

“So, you’ll be there?”

Korra hadn’t stopped to wonder what Asami might think of the idea. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”

Asami hesitated, but said, “I don’t mind. Do you not want to be there?”

Korra almost laughed. “Not even a little bit.”

“Does it make you jealous?”

Jealous. The word conjured up visions of her mother tossing plantains at people. Or of how moody and angry Mako would get when he thought some other guy was looking at her. She didn’t want to toss some chicken at Kuvira, but the thought of her kissing Asami made her stomach turn. How could she not be jealous? “Of you and my best friend getting it on... naw...”

Asami moved so that she was standing in front of Korra instead of beside her. “It’s not real, you know?”

“The jealousy?” Korra asked jokingly. She felt incredibly distracted all of a sudden. She was distracted by Asami’s eyes and her long eyelashes and her perfect lips. It occurred to her that she’d never felt this in her prior relationships; this sort of nervous anticipation. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this desperate need to touch someone before.

“The getting it on part.”

It took Korra a second to remember what they’d been talking about. “Right,” she said. “That’s why Kuvira is currently at home, practicing how to unhook your bra with her teeth.”

Asami laughed. “She is not.”

“She could be.”

Asami took Korra’s hand. “Here, I’ll show you,” she said, and led Korra around the counter.

“How to unhook your bra with my teeth?”

Asami turned back to her, shaking her head and smiling. Korra could swear the actress was blushing. Instead of replying, she patted the stool and said, “Sit.”

Korra pulled it closer and complied. “What are we doing?”

“I’m gonna show you what to expect tomorrow so you don’t worry so much. Pretend that we’re at a bar.”

Korra sat up and took a deep breath. She did her best to bring up the memory of the last bar she was at. She tried to visualize shelves of bottles where the oven and microwave were, tried to see everything in a dimmer shade of light. But the image faded quickly and she was back in Asami’s apartment, staring at shiny appliances. Still, she said, “Okay.” 

“Okay, now pretend you think I’m hot.”

Korra smiled at that. “I’m not sure my imagination stretches that far.”

“Well, then I’ll settle for non-repulsive.” Then Asami leaned against the marble counter and said, “And now say something flirtatious.”

“Um.” Korra tried to think of something to say, but came up blank. She couldn’t recall ever hitting on anyone in her life. So, she went with, “Come here often?”

“That’s your best pick-up line?”

“Yes,” Korra stated seriously. “Is that not enough to make you want to fall madly into bed with me?”

Asami grinned and moved closer. She seemed to hesitate before saying, “Do you want to come to California with me next week?”

The question felt out of place in the context of the moment. “Is that part of the pretend scene?”

“No, sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up.” Asami looked shy and embarrassed in a way that Korra had never seen before. “I have to go home next week for a few days and I was thinking... well, hoping... you’d consider going with me?”

The word ‘home’ bothered Korra. It was an uncomfortable reminder of all of the uncertainty yet before them. But she couldn’t think about that now. She turned instead to the question at hand, and tried to make sense of it.

“I know you have school and everything,” Asami was saying. “And that maybe it’s too soon...”

Korra regarded her curiously, surprised by the fact that Asami was nervous and very near babbling. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

“No! I mean, maybe?” She hesitated and said, “Too soon for what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. You brought it up.”

“Oh. I did. I guess... too soon to jump on a plane with me and travel across the country? I mean, I wouldn’t have asked if I thought it was... but if you think it is...”

“I don’t,” Korra said, because she didn’t, and really, the thought of doing anything at all with Asami was always extremely appealing. “I’d love to go.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure.” Korra smiled at the surprise on Asami’s face. “I mean, I’d have to check with my professors and also see if it’s not too late to get a good price on a plane ticket.”

Asami looked confused, but then she smiled. “Oh, no, don’t worry about that. I’m chartering a private jet.”

Asami said ‘private jet’ in the same way someone might’ve said ‘lawnmower,’ with a sort of casual nonchalance. It suddenly occurred to Korra that she was back in a relationship with someone for whom money was no object. She’d forgotten this, somehow, or maybe she’d done a good job of ignoring it.

“Korra?”

Asami’s voice broke through her thoughts, serious and concerned, and Korra looked up at her. “You can’t pay for everything,” she said in response. “I mean, I can’t compete with a trip to California, but I don’t want things to be like... you paying for everything.”

If Asami was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “Okay,” she agreed. She looked pensively toward the window, then back at Korra. “Well, we’ll need groceries when we get there.”

“Okay,” Korra said, feeling somewhat better. Groceries she could do. “Deal.” She shook Asami’s hand, mostly because she wanted to touch her. She ran her finger down her palm. “So where were we?”

Instead of answering, Asami leaned down and kissed her, making it difficult, if not impossible, to remember things like parental disapproval, and money issues, and the fact that their relationship might fall apart at any moment. Korra was certain that the world might end around them and she’d neither care nor notice, because Asami’s lips were too soft, and whenever she pulled her closer or kissed her deeper, all the blood in Korra’s brain would rush down to other parts of her body, making it impossible to think at all.

The oven beeped, and it might’ve been the first time or the eighth time, Korra couldn’t be sure. She pulled reluctantly away and said, “You better not kiss Kuvira like that tomorrow.”

Asami smiled and kissed her again, the oven forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re adorable.
> 
> Also, there will be a scene or two in the next few chapters that are a little less PG. It’s nothing too gratuitous or obscene, but I though I’d give you guys a heads up. 
> 
> Totally off topic, but I just finished this series on Netflix called The Queen’s Gambit, and it was amazing. I’d highly suggest it :)


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Korra stood impatiently in Kuvira’s dressing room, or what Kuvira had introduced as her dressing room, but felt to Korra more like a Janitor’s closet. “Cozy” had been Korra’s diplomatic reaction, and it might’ve been true enough if not for the random clothes and hangers strewn about the floor, or the strange smell emanating from a mysterious bag in the corner. It was a shared space, Kuvira explained, as if that, in and of itself, were a big deal.

“You move up in the world,” Kuvira continued, matter-of-factly. “Asami’s dressing room is huge. I glanced in the other day. Huge. It’s got like a living room in it, practically. One day, that one will be mine.”

Korra only nodded and silently wished that Asami would drop in. If there was such a thing as being in withdrawal from another person’s company, then that’s what Korra was. She felt jittery and anxious.

“So,” Kuvira said, digging through the small bag on her lap. “I need your opinion on something.”

“Hmm?”

“What flavor lip gloss do you think Asami would like most?” Kuvira held up various colored tubes. “I’ve got cherry, mango, orange, strawberry, apple—“

“Apple,” Korra said automatically.

Kuvira looked over at her. “Yeah?”

Korra wanted to kick herself. What was she doing trying to help Kuvira select the right flavored lip gloss? “Or... strawberry.”

“You’re no help.” Kuvira threw the tubes back in the bag and sat back in her chair. There was only one chair in the room, as only one chair would fit in there. They’d agreed to take turns sitting. “Waiting has to be the most annoying part of filming.” She sighed and then brightened. “So, are you going to tell me about your mystery lover yet?”

“Tonight,” Korra promised.

“Why not now? You’re so infuriating with this stuff. Can I at least ask questions?”

“Sure, why not.” Korra was happy enough to talk about Asami, albeit indirectly.

“What’s she like in bed?”

It was entirely unsurprising for Kuvira to open with a question like that, and still Korra blushed. “I don’t know... yet.”

“Oh no, no,” Kuvira said, shaking her head. “You haven’t slept together yet? Why in the world not?”

Why in the world not. Korra didn’t know Asami’s reasons, nor if Asami even had reasons. The actress always seemed content to let Korra set the pace. “I’m just not ready,” is what she told Kuvira, and that was really the bottom line, as far as she was concerned. She wanted someone to talk to about all of this first. She needed to divulge every last detail of the past few months and sort through all the pieces. She needed Kuvira to forgive her for lying and hug her and tell her that falling in love with a closeted movie star was actually a good thing. She didn’t know why, but it felt important not to have all of these secrets weighing down on her.

Kuvira looked very much like she wanted to protest the very notion of not being ready for sex, but Korra was spared the lecture by a knock at the door. “Come in!”

The door opened and Opal appeared, and Korra couldn’t help but look behind her to see if Asami was nearby.

“Hey, I was just looking for Marshall, have you seen him?” Opal directed the question at Kuvira, but she glanced strangely at Korra.

It was then Korra noticed that Opal had a piece of paper in her hand and that she was discreetly urging Korra to take it.

“No, he dropped by earlier to make sure I was here, but I haven’t seen him since.”

Korra made a quick grab for the paper when she was sure Kuvira wasn’t looking at her. She couldn’t begin to guess what was in it, but she had a good feeling she knew who it was from.

“Okay, well, if you see him, please tell him I’m looking for him, and that he still owes me twenty bucks.”

“Will do.”

Opal smiled in Korra’s direction and let herself out.

Korra fought the urge to open the note right then and there and instead asked, “Who’s Marshall?”

“The second A.D.”

Korra nodded as if that meant anything to her.

“It’s your turn to sit on the magical chair,” Kuvira announced, standing. “I’m off to the little actresses’ room. Back in a sec.”

Korra was monumentally pleased by Kuvira’s timing. She waited until the door had closed before unfolding the paper. It said, simply: “I miss you,” and had an undecipherable drawing that vaguely resembled a chicken. Or a dog. Korra grinned and stared stupidly at the words.

She reached for her cell phone. Since she didn’t have anyone to act as a messenger, a text message would have to do.

***

“...this marvelous invention, known to some as ‘the cell phone,’ now comes with a fascinating service the technological elite like to call ‘text messaging.’ These text messages traverse stone and metal, hike mountains and instantaneously appear on the receiving device’s screen, thereby eliminating the need for ancient tools such as pen and paper.”

Bolin’s teasing only served to make Asami smile. “Do you think it was lame?”

“Do I think it was lame?” Bolin asked. “Yes. But she’ll probably think it’s adorable what with the drawing of the... um... sheep.”

“Rabbit.”

“You have no idea what a rabbit looks like, do you?” He settled back into the couch cushions and crossed his arms, looking back at her thoughtfully. “You look different.”

Asami raised her eyebrows. “Different how?”

He studied her, his black eyes narrowing in concentration. Then he grinned. “Happy.”

She smiled at that. Happy, yes. She was certainly that. Thinking of Korra made her feel lighter, brighter, excited about nothing and everything. Every moment felt like it was bursting with possibility. It was silly, she knew, and probably naïve to let herself see only the positive side of things. There were all these other, darker, more serious issues hovering overhead, but it was hard to care. She didn’t want to think about the what-ifs. She was tired of feeling scared. Korra was hers and she wanted to cling to that for however long it lasted.

Opal entered the room, and Asami’s heartbeat sped up. Despite her optimism, which relied, mainly, on the certainty of her own feelings, there was still a creeping doubt which grew out of her frustrating inability to read Korra’ mind. She was suddenly fearful that sending Korra the note had, in fact, been incredibly lame and that Korra was, at this very moment, reconsidering her feelings about Asami. Feeling anxious, she said, “Well?”

But Opal was in the process of jumping over Bolin to get to the other side of the couch. A move that Asami found impractical, seeing as there was plenty of room for Opal to walk around. Bolin had raised his leg to block her and Opal practically dove over him, her legs landing on his stomach. Bolin yelped somewhat overdramatically and Opal laughed, the sound muffled by the cushions.

Asami briefly wondered if they got over their fight.

Opal twisted around so that her back was on the couch. Her legs were still on Bolin. She glanced at Asami, as if remembering she was there. “Your note was successfully delivered, Romeo. It was actually kind of fun. Like I was back in high school.”

Asami winced at this, hoping Korra hadn’t thought her juvenile. She started to ask if Korra had said anything, given some hint as to her feelings on the situation, but the cell phone interrupted. She reached for it and saw that she had a message from Korra. It read: “Thanks for the drawing of the (insert whatever it was here). It was really good! Thought you should also know that I’m dying to kiss you.”

“Is she blushing?” Bolin asked.

“She is,” Opal said. “So cute.”

“Young love.”

Asami reread the message and put the phone away. She was grinning. To her friends she said, “Shut up.”

***

Korra walked beside a blonde girl from the film crew that introduced herself as Cylon. “That’s not my real name, obviously, but the nickname’s a long story. Want to hear it?” The girl didn’t wait for a reply before launching into a complicated, disjointed tale about Battlestar Galactica and a toaster. Korra had trouble following the story, so she mostly kept quiet and laughed along when she felt it appropriate.

While listening, she looked around the set for Asami, but didn’t see her among the people walking around. She focused her attention on the activity around her, watching the crew members as they moved about, rearranging lights and calling out to each other. She could see the bar Asami had tried to get her to visualize the night before. It looked startlingly bizarre in the center of the room, with two missing walls and people walking through it, dragging cables, switching chairs around. She caught sight of someone sitting at one of the tables, and realized it was Taylor.

Korra had forgotten all about Taylor, or at least forgotten all the feelings of jealousy that Taylor stirred up in her. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea where things stood between the director and Asami. She felt a pang of fear. She’d been so relieved that Asami and Taylor hadn’t slept together that she’d automatically assumed it meant Asami wasn’t interested. But they’d been on a date. They’d been on a date and then Korra had thrown herself at Asami. And now what?

Cylon led her to a row of chairs that had been placed near the cameras and handed Korra a headset. Then she lingered. “So you’re friends with Lynn?”

Korra looked at her, deciding to ignore her worries for the moment. “You mean Kuvira?”

“Right, sorry. Obviously I don’t know her very well.” She looked around and then leaned closer. “Have you met Asami Sato?”

The way she said Asami’s name startled Korra momentarily, reminding her that Asami, her Asami, was not really hers at all, but rather someone that belonged to the realm of the worshipped and admired; a place where she herself did not exist. Instead of answering, she asked, “Have you?”

Cylon looked like she’d been hoping for the question. She grinned. “I brought her coffee earlier and she said she loves it when I bring her the coffee. She didn’t say why, but I know it’s because none of the other assistants ever put enough sugar.” She lowered her voice. “Her boyfriend is so hot. Have you seen him?”

Korra only nodded, finding it strange, this whole other world of Asami’s that she was not a part of. She felt displaced in it. At this moment, she could easily believe that she’d imagined everything; that Asami was nothing but a stranger, a victim of an elaborate fantasy. She shook the thought away and, for the sake of saying something, said, “Yeah, he’s hot.”

“Who’s hot?”

Korra turned her head to find that Opal had walked up to them and was looking at her curiously. She was instantly embarrassed.

“Bolin,” Cylon said easily. “But I guess you’d know that.” She laughed as if she didn’t find the conversation remotely awkward. “I should get back to work. Nice meeting you, Clara.”

Korra started to correct her but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, she was anxious to backtrack on her earlier comment. When Opal sat beside her, she said, “I don’t really think Bolin is hot.”

“You don’t?”

Korra jumped at the sound of a male voice. Oh God. Bolin had snuck up behind her, and was now frowning down at her. She was mortified. “No! You are hot! I just meant... I was just...” She had no idea how to finish the sentence.

“...trying to deny your overwhelming attraction for me?” He grinned. “I understand. I’m hard to resist.”

He was teasing her, offering her a way out of the embarrassing situation, and Korra was grateful. She took his cue and sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to learn to contain myself somehow.”

He leaned down and whispered, “Good, ‘cause otherwise Asami would kill me.” He winked and moved away so he could take a seat beside Opal.

Korra laughed, mostly out of reflex. She was too stunned to say anything else. She wasn’t prepared for how nice it would feel to have her relationship with Asami acknowledged. Bolin’s words made her feel like she could breathe.

Opal leaned over and said, softly, “We’re really happy for the two of you.”

“And by that she means that we’re relieved that you-know-who can finally stop pining over you as it was getting ridiculously old.” Bolin grinned.

Korra wasn’t sure what to make that. “Pining? I’m the one that threw herself at her.”

Bolin was leaning over the arm of his chair, practically falling into Opal’s lap. “Really? Tell us more about that.”

Opal hit him over the head. “What he means is that we’re glad it all worked out.”

Bolin rubbed his head and frowned at Opal. “That’s not...”

Korra missed the rest of his sentence, fully distracted by the fact that Asami had walked into view. Her breath caught at the sight of her. The actress had about four people walking alongside her, but it was impossible to look at anyone else. Korra hadn’t even thought to wonder what Asami might be wearing during the scene, and would’ve never guessed that she’d be so dressed up. Her dress was long, black and backless, with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination. Her hair was loose, luscious and incredibly silky, falling over part of her face. Korra watched her push it away and then their gazes met.

Asami smiled at her, softly and briefly, before turning her attention back to the people around her.

Korra let out her breath and risked a glance at Taylor, expecting to find the director openly leering at her girlfriend. But Taylor was nowhere in sight and Korra relaxed slightly, thinking she had to stop freaking out.

“Che Guevara was not Cuban, you idiot. He was Argentinean.”

The statement pulled Korra back to the conversation between Opal and Bolin.

Bolin was frowning. “Are you sure? I thought he only died in Argentina?”

“Bolivia,” Korra said, for no particular reason, as she had no idea why they were discussing Che Guevara. “He died in Bolivia.”

“Yes, thank you!” Opal said, grinning at Korra. To Bolin she said, “Maybe you should try reading something other than Playboy once in a while.”

Bolin waved his hand dismissively. “What’s the fun in that?”

Korra smiled to herself and shook her head, looking around again for Asami. She spotted her by the barstools and was surprised to find that Kuvira was standing with her. Seeing Kuvira, dressed up and on set, shocked Korra. All of this time, it hadn’t truly hit her: Kuvira was in this movie. Her Kuvira was actually in a movie. All of this time, she’d given no thought at all to Kuvira’s feelings. Here it was, her best friend’s big break, and all Korra could think to do was whine about a stupid kiss. She sighed, feeling awful. She’d been acting like a selfish jerk.

She watched Kuvira, hoping she’d look back at her. When she finally did, Korra smiled brightly at her, hoping she looked both proud and supportive, because she was. And she aimed to get better at showing that.

***

Asami sat on one of the stools at the faux-bar, waiting and watching as other people worked around her. Often, she’d look toward Korra, unable to keep from doing so, but feeling conflicted in the moment. All morning she’d tried to convince herself that Korra being there was for the best. She needed to know if Korra could handle this part of her life. Specifically, she needed to know if this had the potential to become an issue between them.

At the same time, she feared the answer. She didn’t know what to do if Korra couldn’t deal with her kissing other people; if perhaps after today she wouldn’t be able to deal with seeing her kiss Kuvira.

She sighed as her gaze landed on her fellow co-star. Seeing her, Asami grew depressed, recalling Korra’s hesitation about telling Kuvira. It made Asami want to cry, thinking back on it. Korra once told her she’d never tell anyone. Not even Kuvira, she’d said, and Asami had been entirely too overwhelmed that Korra was even talking to her to think clearly about what that meant. She recognized, too, that she’d been too selfishly worried about her career, and too wrapped up in her self-pity, to think about things like cause and effect.

Kuvira sat beside her suddenly, and Asami shut off her stream of thoughts and forced a smile. “Hello, Kuvira,” she said, amiably.

Kuvira chuckled and said, “Hi, Asami Sato.” She looked as if she was going to say more, but Taylor interrupted.

Asami glanced briefly at Korra, wishing she could send her telepathic messages just because. Hoping her glance was enough to let Korra know she was thinking of her, Asami turned her full attention on the director. Here we go.

***

Watching Asami kiss Kuvira was every bit the emotional hell that Korra had anticipated. At least, at first. Seeing Asami and Kuvira flirt with each other had been uncomfortable, in a God-get-me-out-of-here sort of way. The kiss had been worse. There was no way to watch them and not think it was real. If this had been a bad dream, it would be the sort that spilled into the waking day, its lingering emotions replacing all rational thought.

When Taylor yelled, “Cut!” Korra had been grateful. She’d breathed in, nice and slow, and pulled herself together.

After the initial shock of it all wore off, she began to relax. The day fell into the rhythm of the director’s instructions, and after a while, Korra began to notice the other things: the extras walking around the bar, the bartender serving the drinks. Occasionally, something unexpected would happen: like Kuvira stumbling over a line and everyone laughing, or someone accidentally dropping a glass. It was these moments that helped break the illusion; the times when Korra understood what Asami meant by it isn’t real.

But the kisses, for there were many versions, were hard to watch. Even if they weren’t real, they weren’t fake enough not to jab at Korra’s heart. It was impossible not to wonder if Asami enjoyed kissing Kuvira, or worse, if the actress thought Kuvira a better kisser. And it was hard not to be angry at Kuvira for no doubt loving this, for no doubt feeling triumphant over the fact that she was kissing Asami Sato where everyone could see. She hated her, briefly, but strongly, for getting to do something Korra never would, for getting to kiss Asami proudly and in public with no fear of condemnation.

But then Taylor’s voice would interrupt the moment and Korra could see the shift, first in Asami, then in Kuvira; that almost imperceptible change in body language that meant they were each back to being themselves. It helped, seeing this. It helped to remind Korra that it wasn’t Asami kissing Kuvira or Kuvira kissing Asami; that they were only acting. It didn’t change the way she felt when watching them kiss, but it helped to soothe the negative emotions.

Eventually, Taylor called it a day and noise erupted over the set as the crew jumped back into action. “So what did you think?”

Korra was surprised by the voice. She turned her head to find Taylor looking at her, smiling her casual, friendly smile. Korra was forced to remember that she didn’t actually dislike the director. “It was... interesting.” She couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. Mostly, she’d found it complicated and emotionally exhausting. But she couldn’t very well say that. She couldn’t very well leave it at ‘interesting,’ either. “I mean, it was fun. I’m glad I came.” That wasn’t any better, but it would have to do.

“Good,” Taylor said, sounding happy enough with this answer. And then she apologized and excused herself as someone came to talk to her.

Korra was grateful for the short exchange, as she wasn’t in the mood for awkward chit-chat.

Beside her, Opal stretched and yawned.

“So, you’re coming with us to L.A.?” Bolin asked. He was now standing and it took Korra a second to realize he was addressing her.

“I think so,” Korra said, feeling shy and somewhat self-conscious. Up until now, her time with Asami had been simply that: her time with Asami. But she was starting to realize that Opal and Bolin came with the package. “Well, I want to. I still have to check with my professors.” Although, Korra knew she’d simply end up emailing them to say she’d gone in search of passion, per Professor Tenzin’s advice. If they had issues with the subject they could take it up with her.

“We’ll keep you company while Asami’s at her meetings,” Opal said.

“We intend to frequently invite ourselves into your company,” Bolin said. “And Asami’s pool.”

Korra laughed at this and tried to think of something witty to reply. She felt shy around them; Bolin especially. In the eyes of the world, he was Asami’s recently stolen-back boyfriend, and this was something Korra wasn’t sure what to do with. They were both comfortable with their assigned roles in Asami’s life and Korra was still trying to figure out how she fit in. Maybe the trip to California would help, or maybe it would only serve to alienate her further.

She looked for Asami, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, needing the reassurance only her smiles brought. But Asami was gone.

Cylon appeared suddenly, practically bouncing on her feet. She was around Korra’s age, twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, blue-eyed and willowy. When she saw Bolin she grinned and started twirling a finger through her straight, blonde hair. “Hi, Bolin,” she said, brightly. “What was that like, watching your girlfriend make out with a girl?” She wrinkled her nose in a way that made Korra want to punch her.

Korra was surprised when she felt Opal slip her arm through hers. “I’ll take care of Korra, while you two chat,” Opal said, pulling Korra away from the conversation.

“Thanks,” Korra said, tentatively. She wasn’t entirely certain that she’d read the situation correctly, but she felt rescued.

“My pleasure,” Opal said, and let go of her arm. “I’m sure none of this has been fun.”

They walked away from the set and back toward the dressing rooms. “No,” Korra admitted, after a moment. “But I suppose I need to get used to it.”

Opal looked like she wanted to say more, but remained silent. The corridor they walked through was lined with people and Korra understood that whatever Opal wanted to say could not be said at that moment. “I look forward to hanging out with you more,” she said, when they reached Kuvira’s dressing room.

“Me too,” Korra said, meaning it. She appreciated Opal’s attempt to make her feel welcome.

“I’m off to find Asami. Catch you later.”

Korra nodded and watched her go, then turned the handle on the door and stepped inside. She expected the dressing room to be empty, as Kuvira had warned her that she might not be back right away. So, she was surprised to find that the chair was occupied. She was even more surprised to find Asami patiently sitting there. Seeing her, Korra quickly closed the door. “What are you doing here?” She was suddenly worried for Asami; scared that someone might catch her there and piece everything together.

Asami’s eyes looked greener than usual, thinly outlined in black liner. “Waiting for you,” she said, almost smiling but not quite.

“Where’s Kuvira?”

“Last time I saw her she was flirting with one of the A.D.’s.”

Then that meant there was time. She briefly considered locking the door, but decided that locking herself in a room with Asami would only arouse suspicions from anyone coming by.

She crossed the small space between them, feeling a foreign sense of determination. The chair was high enough that Korra didn’t need to bend down to kiss her. She felt Asami relax as their lips touched, as if she’d been holding her breath in waiting. Perhaps they both had.

Familiar sensations spread through her body as Asami’s arms wrapped around her waist.

She pushed away all thoughts of Kuvira and the movie and all the stupid, senseless jealousy.

Korra had expected the kiss to last only seconds, fully aware that at any moment someone might burst through the door and catch them. She’d expected Asami’s kisses to be cautious, the type that might be easy to end and conceal should they be walked in on. But Asami didn’t seem at all concerned about the door. When they finally pulled away, Korra smiled. Her lips tingled, tasting like mint. “Did you brush your teeth before coming here?”

“Yes,” Asami said, and smiled back. “I am compulsive about that sort of thing.” After a second she asked, “Was today okay?”

Korra backed out of Asami’s arms, gently. She didn’t want to appear upset, but she was nervous about the door. “It was as okay as it could be, I guess.”

Asami looked like she didn’t know what to make of that. “I was worried.”

Korra was surprised. “About what?”

“About you.”

“I’m not going to break,” Korra said, determined not to seem weak. The last thing she wanted was Asami worrying about these things. Just because she didn’t like watching Asami make out with other people didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it. “It’s like when I have to paint nude models. Does it make you happy the thought of me looking at naked people all day?”

Asami looked more amused than anything else. “That’s not quite the same thing.”

“Well, sometimes it’s private sessions, in my bedroom.” This was a blatant lie, but Korra saw the flash of uncertainty in Asami’s eyes and that was enough. She laughed. “See, you wouldn’t like that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Asami eyed her curiously. “But you don’t make out with these nude models, do you?”

“Only the hot ones.”

Asami shook her head but smiled. She glanced at the door, then back at Korra. “Are you telling Kuvira about us soon?”

“Tonight, hopefully.”

Asami nodded. “Good, I’m glad. I was wondering... well, she’d have to check with Taylor but... would you like her to come to California with us?”

Korra hadn’t expected the question and so she didn’t have an immediate answer. Mostly, she was confused. “Why?”

“I was thinking it would be good for our friends to get to know each other,” Asami said. “And Megan’s going.”

This was news to Korra. “Megan’s going?”

“Well, yeah,” Asami said. “She starts on Monday.”

“Right.” Korra wasn’t sure why she’d thought that this trip to California meant that she and Asami would have time alone together. “Is Tara going too?”

“Your sister? Do you want her to go?”

“Can you fit all these people in your house?” Korra felt mostly annoyed. She felt bad for feeling annoyed, but the feeling was still there.

Asami laughed, sounding thoroughly entertained by the conversation. “If that’s what you want. But, I thought Kuvira and Megan could stay with Opal.”

“Oh,” Korra said, feeling relieved.

“That is, unless you don’t want to be all alone in a house with me? I promise not to take advantage of you.”

Korra grinned. “I wouldn’t want you to promise that.”

Before Asami could respond, the door opened and in stepped Kuvira. She froze in the doorway when she saw Asami.

“Hi, Kuvira,” Asami said, smiling, sounding casual and relaxed. “I came by to see if the two of you would like a ride back into the city.”

Korra glanced at Asami, wondering if she’d made that up on the spot or if she’d come armed with that explanation.

Kuvira disguised her surprise with a nonchalant look. “Sure, thank you.” She glanced at Korra. “I mean, right?”

“Sure,” Korra said.

“Great,” Asami said, and rose. “Then I’m off to change. See you in a bit.”

Kuvira moved to let Asami out. When the door closed, she turned to Korra. “Did that just happen?”

Korra swallowed, thinking that now was probably a good time to begin her confessions.

“What did you think of the scene?” Kuvira started digging through her bag for the change of clothes she’d brought.

“It was really great,” Korra said. “You were awesome.”

“Yeah? This morning you made it seem like I was dragging you to your death.”

Korra winced. “I’m sorry.”

“I mean, I get that you have that new mystery woman of yours and probably want to spend time with her or whatever but a few hours with me isn’t going to kill you.”

“Kuvira, I have to tell you something,” Korra began, thinking that she now perfectly understood how Asami had felt about telling her the truth. “Actually, a few somethings.”

“Mmm?”

“But you have to swear on two things before I tell you.”

Kuvira stood, her clothes in hand. She seemed distracted, looking around the floor for something. “Okay, I swear.”

“No, I mean, you have to seriously swear, Kuvira. Like, swear on our friendship. Swear on your acting career. Swear on coffee.”

Whatever Kuvira had been searching for was now forgotten. “This sounds serious.”

“It is serious.”

“Is this about your politician?”

“She’s not...” Korra sighed. “Okay, the first thing you have to swear on is that you will not tell a soul. Not a soul. No one.”

Kuvira sat down on the chair, giving Korra her full attention. “I swear on our friendship, my acting career and coffee that I will not tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Korra said, feeling better. “The second thing you have to swear is that you’re going to believe me, even though you’re not going to believe me, if that makes sense.”

“Holy fuck, are you dating Hillary Clinton?”

“Swear!”

“Okay, I swear I’ll believe you.”

Korra took a deep breath, ignoring the still lingering scent of the mystery thing rotting away in the corner. “It’s Asami.”

Kuvira frowned, as if the name made no sense to her.

“Sato.”

Kuvira blinked. Once, twice... “What?”

Korra lowered her voice, suddenly paranoid about eavesdroppers. She should’ve waited until they got home to begin this conversation. Now she was stuck. “I’m dating Asami,” she said softly.

“Like, the Asami that was just here?”

“Yes.”

“The Asami I’m in a movie with?”

“Yes, Kuvira.” Korra felt impatient now, wanting to get on with the real reaction. Kuvira didn’t say anything for a very long time, and Korra couldn’t tell if she was angry or shocked or simply processing the information. She leaned back against the wall, waiting.

“I knew I’d seen that fucking jacket somewhere,” Kuvira said finally. “I’d been racking my brain this whole time because I knew I’d seen it. And of course, she was wearing it at the gallery that one time. I’m pissed I didn’t remember that before.”

“The jacket,” Korra said in disbelief. “You’re seriously talking to me about the stupid jacket?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, think how much more awesome this conversation would’ve been if I’d totally figured out the mystery of the jacket and you were like, ‘Oh I’m dating Asami Sato’ and I was like, ‘I already know,’ or you know, something better than that. I suck at dialogue. But, something like that. You’d be like, ‘You know?’ And I’d be like, ‘I figured it out... the jacket showed me the way.’”

“You do totally suck at dialogue.”

Kuvira looked over at her. “You’re dating Asami Sato.”

Korra bit her lip, waiting. It hadn’t been a question, so she didn’t answer.

“Is that why you didn’t want to come today? Because of the kissing?” Korra nodded.

Kuvira nodded, too, looking pensively at nothing. “Then I guess I won’t invite you for the sex scene.” She frowned. “You don’t hate me, right? For kissing the girlfriend I didn’t know you had ‘cause you didn’t tell me she was your girlfriend?”

“I don’t hate you,” Korra said, feeling guilty that for the shortest of seconds she had hated her. Or maybe it hadn’t been hate. Maybe it had been something else; a dark sort of envy. “Do you hate me for not telling you sooner?”

Kuvira considered the question. “I’m not sure. I haven’t fully processed this.” She stood. “I should get changed. Then she said, “I don’t hate you, though. I could never hate you. This is just a little... well... out of the blue. You can hardly see the fucking blue from where this whole thing is standing. You just see a dot that could be the blue, but probably isn’t. It’s probably the red. You get me?”

“You see a dot that might be the red.”

“Exactly.” Kuvira slipped out of the dress she was wearing. “How the hell did you start dating Asami Sato, anyway? How does a thing like that even happen?”

Korra crossed her arms and took another deep breath. “Well, you remember my lesbian....?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asami is so precious. Also, Kuvira’s whit is epic haha! 
> 
> I’m so sad this story is almost over :(


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a sex scene. If you feel uncomfortable, stop reading once “@@@@@@@“ appears. You won’t miss anything important. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

Asami looked up from the book she was reading, drawn away from the words on the page by the shouts and laughter on the other side of the plane. Megan and Bolin stood around cheering as Kuvira and Korra arm wrestled. For several seconds, it looked like a draw. But then Korra let out a loud laugh and brought Kuvira’s arm down. More cheering ensued, and Asami smiled, quietly pleased by the outcome.

She watched Korra for a moment longer, content to sit back and let her girlfriend be the center of attention for a change. But a part of her wished that they were alone. It had been a long weekend. Filming had gone late into the night on Sunday, and she’d not seen Korra at all after the ride from the studio. She smiled briefly at the recollection of Kuvira’s curious, questioning glances. It had been a pleasant, if slightly awkward, ride.

Korra had told Kuvira everything on Saturday. On Sunday, Korra had told Megan and Tara. And now there it was, all the details of their relationship, the truth about Asami Sato, finally unveiled.

Asami knew she should feel scared, perhaps worried that her best-kept secret was quickly becoming public knowledge. She’d expected to feel more concern, more panic at the sudden loss of control. But she felt... peaceful; relieved. For the first time since she’d privately accepted that she’d never fall in love with a boy, a guy, a man, she felt... free. For the first time in as many years, she felt like she was doing something her grandmother would be proud of.

Opal dropped down into the seat beside her, suddenly. “Feeling anti-social?”

“No, I just felt like reading.”

“Can we talk business for a sec?”

Asami slipped a bookmark between the pages of the book. “What’s up?”

“I need to know what your plans are.” “My plans?”

“For you and Korra.” She lowered her voice. “I think we need to have a sit-down with Cynthia and outline a plan of action.”

Asami frowned, realizing this was not a conversation she wanted to be having. She turned her head and looked out into the vast, cloudless sky. Her feeling of freedom wavered. After a long moment, she said, “You know what my grandma told me the day before she died?”

“What?”

“She told me that I had to learn how to be myself, independent of the fame.”

“And have you?”

Asami sighed, turning back to Opal. “No, because I can’t separate the two things, and apparently neither can anyone else, or you wouldn’t be here asking me to discuss my personal life with my publicist.” She looked away again. “I don’t want to lie about who I am anymore.”

Opal hesitated, but said, “Asami, I get it. You’re in love. And you want to shout it from the rooftops so the whole world can hear. But it’s more complicated than that, and you know it. Forget, for a second, that you coming out would cause a media frenzy and potentially ruin your chances with Bridge. You tell the world that you’re dating Korra, and the press isn’t going to leave her alone. You really want her to have to deal with that this early on in your relationship? It’s been, what, like four days since you guys got together?”

Asami glanced over at Korra, softening at the sight of her. More than anything, she wanted to make Korra happy, but she didn’t know how to do that while living a lie. To Opal, she said, “I’m not saying I want to shout it from the rooftops. I’m saying I don’t want to lie anymore. Not directly. Not when I can help it. Like, no more of Bolin being my boyfriend. I want it cleared up that we’re just friends.”

“So do you want to meet with Cynthia?”

“No, but you can.”

“And what should I tell her, exactly?”

“Tell her that I’m not going to step off this plane and announce to the press that I’m a lesbian. But that I’m also no longer going to go out of my way to hide it or tell lies to conceal it. I’m done with all of that.” Asami nodded, feeling content with this assertion.

Opal sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t want you to get so wrapped up in this relationship that you make decisions you can’t undo.”

“It’s not about the relationship,” Asami said. “Not entirely. My grandmother was right. I need to figure out who I am. I need to figure out who I want to be when I’m no longer a star. I don’t want to look back on my life and see that I was the sort of person that put their career ahead of the people they love.” She shrugged. “And as far as decisions that can’t be undone... well, I’m gay. With or without Korra I’m still gay. The world will just have to get over it. I’m so tired of caring about what other people think. It’s exhausting. Besides, that’s what I hired you people for, to worry for me.”

Opal stared at her for a long time. Then she shook her head with a sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to yell at you or hug you. The manager side of me has a really big headache. But the friend part of me is actually really happy to hear you talk like this. Look, I’ll meet with Cynthia. And I’ll get back to you with her full-on freak out. And then... then we’ll figure something out. Okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Good. Can we change the subject now?”

“Please.”

Opal leaned closer. “What do you think of me signing Kuvira?”

“Signing Kuvira to do what?”

“You know, to represent her. She doesn’t have a manager. The way I figure it is: if you can hire your girlfriend’s sister’s girlfriend to be your assistant, then I can see if your girlfriend’s best friend will hire me as her manager. That way, when you and Korra get caught in the middle of a Lord of the Rings themed orgy and your career goes belly up, I’ll have something to fall back on.”

Asami laughed and gently elbowed Opal. “Go away.”

Opal laughed and got up, passing Korra on her way down the aisle. Asami smiled. “Hey.”

Korra grinned and slid into the seat beside her. “Hey.” She gazed after Opal, watching as she joined the others. When she turned back to Asami, she looked serious. “Everything okay?”

The question was vague enough that Asami could have dismissed it. For a moment, she considered the pros of steering the conversation toward a lighter subject matter. But in the end, she said, “Are you okay with me not dating Bolin anymore?”

Korra laughed. “What?”

“I told Opal I didn’t want to lie anymore,” Asami said. “You know, about me; out there, in the real world. Like, not blurt it all out or anything, but not hide it, either. Does that make sense?” She looked into Korra’s blue eyes in the hopes of finding a trace of understanding.

“Sort of.” Korra looked thoughtful. “Is this about me? You know I can handle it, right? If you need to pretend I’m your cousin or something.”

“But I don’t want you to be my cousin. Do you want to be my cousin?”

“No. But this isn’t about me.”

“It is,” Asami said, worried suddenly that Korra didn’t understand. “It is about you, Korra. Everything I do is going to affect you. So, I need us to be on the same page. If you want us to be super careful, then tell me.”

“What’s the alternative? Are you going to start kissing me in public?”

Asami smiled. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe we’ll host a Lord of the Rings themed orgy.”

“I’ve always wanted to sleep with a Hobbit.”

“I’m afraid I’m a little tall to be a Hobbit. Also, I have no hair on my feet.”

“Well, my attraction to you is going downhill fast.” Korra smiled. She looked into Asami’s eyes and said, “What do you want?”

It wasn’t a simple question and therefore had no simple answer, but Asami felt fairly certain about her desires. “I want not to lie anymore,” she said after a moment. “I want to just be.”

“Then be.”

“Even if it ends up outing us to the world eventually?”

“Sure. At least then everyone will know you’re mine and that they can’t have you.”

It wasn’t at all what Asami had expected Korra to say, and she laughed, though a different part of her, or perhaps the same part, wanted to cry. She felt both overwhelmed and incredibly relieved and also somewhat terrified of all of the unknowns and unknowables that lay ahead. Miles above the ground it felt safe enough to discuss the things she wanted. But the reality was far more complicated, and she could only hope that they were both strong enough to face it all.

At Asami’s silence, Korra asked, “Was that the wrong thing to say?”

“No,” Asami said, smiling gently. “It was exactly the right thing.” Her heart burst with the need to tell her that she loved her, but it felt like entirely the wrong moment. She wasn’t sure what the right moment would be, or whether it was too soon to be declaring her feelings.

Korra studied her quietly, and then leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. “You worry too much.”

***

Los Angeles welcomed their arrival with sunshine, pleasant weather, and flashing cameras.

Korra didn’t get a chance to be startled, as Opal and Bolin quickly ushered her and Asami into an awaiting SUV. And then they were off, off and away into stop-and-go traffic.

The driver was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind brown eyes. His voice was deep and loud and accented, and to Korra’s ears, both friendly and kind. He recognized Asami right away, but said nothing to her directly. Korra caught him looking at the actress in the rearview mirror often, but when he spoke, he spoke to Korra.

“You an actress, too?” he asked her at one point.

“Definitely not an actress.”

“A model?”

Korra laughed at the question and told him that she was an artist from New York. At the mention of New York, the man perked up. He had a lot to say about the Big Apple. And Korra settled back into the comfortable seat, letting his voice fill the empty spaces of the car.

She wanted to take Asami’s hand; to make contact. The weekend had felt long, almost eternal, and Korra was glad to be once again in Asami’s company. They hadn’t had a moment alone since the few, stolen minutes in Kuvira’s dressing room, and Korra missed her.

The weekend had been long, but emotionally productive. Together, she and Kuvira had sifted through the details of her unexpected relationship, and Korra had been content to relive it all; to finally feel, believe and accept that this was truly happening. That what had started as a piece of charcoal against a white sheet of paper had mysteriously and wondrously brought her to this moment, to this car, to this now-familiar need to touch the woman she loved.

The ride to Asami’s house took longer than Korra had imagined, but the time passed in a blur of internal monologues and external polite conversation, and, if Korra was honest, the more-than-occasional lustful thought starring her and a certain Hollywood actress. And so, Korra was mildly surprised when the car rolled to a stop.

What fully startled her was the sight of the house they’d stopped in front of: a two-story modern beach house that looked to be straight off the cover of a luxury homes magazine.

She blinked, staring up at their destination through the dark tinted windows of the car.

She heard Asami shift beside her and open the door, so Korra pushed her surprise aside, and stepped outside. The breeze hit her face immediately, feeling much cooler than it had felt outside the airport. The air smelled like the ocean and Korra closed her eyes, breathing it all in. When she opened her eyes, Asami was smiling at her.

Korra smiled back, then movement caught her eye and she saw the driver walking back from dropping their bags at the front door.

Asami paid him, thanked him, and wished him a great day. And then, finally, they were alone. She turned to Korra. “Ready?”

She nodded and followed the actress toward the front door, feeling incredibly far away from New York suddenly. Here was yet another alien part of Asami’s life.

Asami unlocked the door and pushed it open, nearly tripping over a cardboard box on the floor. “What the...”

Korra glanced into the box and her eyebrows rose at the piles and piles of salacious titles. “Porn, Asami? I’ve learned so much about you already and I’ve yet to walk in the door.”

Asami shoved the box aside with her foot and opened the door fully. “It’s Bolin’s.”

“Sure it is.” Teasing Asami was fun, but the second she stepped inside, Korra forgot all about the box on the floor. Beyond the pristine white walls and floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows was the most amazing view she had ever seen. She walked further into the house and stared at the ocean in the distance, at the pool that seemed to empty out into the sea. “Do you seriously live here?” She turned to find Asami watching her intently.

“I take it you like it?”

“Like it?” Korra almost laughed. She’d been impressed by Asami’s New York apartment, but this was something else entirely. This was paradise. “I’m never leaving.”

“That can be arranged.”

The comment caught Korra’s full attention, drawing her gaze away from the blue of the horizon and over to the green of Asami’s eyes. She wanted to say something suddenly; something important and all- encompassing; something to express the inexpressible surge of her emotions; something that had nothing at all to do with the ocean view or the promise of luxury. But she didn’t know how to paint with words, and so, instead, she took Asami’s hand and pulled her closer until their lips met.

She felt herself melt the moment Asami’s arms wrapped around her, feeling, despite the unfamiliar surroundings, instantly, and inexplicably, at home. She wanted to say this, too, but knew that it would sound strange, in or out of context. So she shut her mind off, distracted by the steady jolt of desire that always arose from the feel of Asami’s body against hers, from its warmth and softness; from the alluring scent that clung to Asami’s skin. With her hand she traced the outline of Asami’s waist, feeling the curve of her hips beneath the fabric of her clothes. She could sense the way Asami reacted to her touch; the subtle, almost imperceptible intake of breath that let Korra know she wasn’t alone in wanting more.

It was, she knew, a promise of things to come. And when Asami ended the kiss, she didn’t stop her. She only smiled and breathed and willed her heart to slow back down into a natural beat.

Korra took the time to take in the rest of her surroundings, then. Unlike the apartment, the house was fully and tastefully decorated in chic, modern furniture that likely cost more than her yearly rent. A row of framed photographs decorated the wall on the left, and she found her feet moving toward them. The first picture was a black and white shot of a baby in an older woman’s arms. It looked like a professional shot and yet... “Is that you?”

Asami walked up beside her and said, “And my grandmother.”

The wistfulness in Asami’s tone made Korra glance at her. She remembered the last time the subject of her grandmother had come up. Asami had said she didn’t really like to talk about it, and Korra hadn’t pressed, but suddenly she wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about Asami. She turned back to the picture, trying to find the answers in the stillness of the image. Seeing Asami as a baby made Korra smile. “You were cute.”

“Were?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.” Her smile widened but she didn’t look at Asami. Instead, she regarded the woman in the photo. It was obvious that good looks ran in Asami’s family. It was obvious, too, that the woman in the picture loved the baby in her arms. She thought of Asami saying that she didn’t really have a family anymore, and her smile faltered. “What was her name?”

“Sakura.”

It felt strange, realizing how little they still knew about each other. She moved on to the next photo. In this one, a woman that looked astoundingly like Asami, sat on a big wing chair, her knees drawn to her chest, her gaze fixed on something far away and unseen.

“That’s my mom,” Asami said softly. “Self portrait.”

Korra looked at the photo again. Here were the hidden pieces of Asami’s life, framed and arranged in a perfect row of captured memories. The woman in the picture could have been Asami’s older sister. They had the same green eyes, the same intense look in their gaze. But there was something else, too, that was entirely unlike Asami. There was, in that frozen expression, a deep and untouchable sadness. “Did she take the first photo as well?”

“She took them all.” Asami motioned to the rest of the images. “She was a photographer.”

“Oh.” Korra hadn’t known this. She looked at the photo of Asami’s mother again and wondered what it would be like to meet her. Would she have approved of her as Asami’s girlfriend? Would she have approved of Asami having a girlfriend? Did Asami wonder the same things? The thought saddened her. As much as her own family drove her insane, she couldn’t imagine life without them. 

The other photos were of random objects and scenery. They were all beautifully shot and Korra could tell that Asami had put thought into the order in which she’d hung them. The wall wrapped around and Korra followed all the photos until she got to the end. When she finished, she turned away from the wall, and found that Asami was leaning against a white, L-shaped couch, watching her curiously. “Sorry, they were just so beautiful. I forgot where I was.”

“That’s okay,” Asami said, and smiled. “I’m happy you like them.” Then she looked away and bit her lip. “I have to show you something, and I hope... I hope you don’t get mad at me.”

Korra wasn’t sure how to react. She couldn’t fathom what Asami might have to show her that might upset her in any way. “Is it a torture chamber or something?” She hoped the question would lighten the mood, but Asami still looked worried. She decided it was best to get it over with. “Show me.”

Asami led the way back toward the front door, and then headed up a winding staircase. Korra followed quietly, unsure of what was happening.

Asami paused at the top of the stairs, in front of a closed door. She hesitated, then pushed it open and motioned for Korra to walk in.

She half expected to find some random, half-naked woman tied to a bed. But she did as commanded and stood in the doorway, staring into the large bedroom. She didn’t have time to look around because her gaze flew, almost immediately, to the framed artwork above the bed. It was hers; the charcoal sketch that started it all. She stepped forward, touched that Asami had placed it where she had.

Confused, she turned back to Asami. She was about to ask what she was supposed to be angry about, when she noticed the other paintings that hung along the opposite wall. “You’re the one who bought them?”

Asami leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I honestly forgot to tell you and only just remembered on the drive here.”

Korra looked back to the paintings she’d sold at the gallery. Of course Asami had bought them. How had the possibility never occurred to her?

“I sent Opal in to buy them before anyone else could.”

“So you bought them without seeing them?”

“I didn’t have to see them to know I would love them,” Asami said. “And I didn’t want anyone else to have them.”

The way she spoke made Korra wonder whether Asami was referring only to the paintings. She wasn’t angry. A part of her was even relieved. Another part was flattered. She turned back to Asami. “You’re not going to like... chain me to an easel and force me to paint for you night and day, are you?”

Hesitantly, Asami asked, “You’re not mad?” 

“That you’re obsessed with me and my artwork? Not really. A little concerned you’re going to turn all Kathy Bates in Misery on me...”

“Well, you had to know that was always a risk. Besides, you already said you didn’t want to leave.”

“And I don’t.” She’d just noticed the balcony and walked toward it. She loved this view. She loved this house. Outside, a lounge chair pointed toward the glass railing and the ocean beyond. Another winding staircase led down to the pool area. She couldn’t quite believe that she was here.

When she turned, it hit her: She was standing in Asami’s bedroom. It occurred to her, too, that at no point at all had they discussed where she would sleep. She glanced at the bed. And then she looked at Asami, who was still standing in the doorway. “So, where am I sleeping?” She asked the question as innocently as she could, watching for Asami’s reaction.

By all appearances, it was probably the last thing Asami expected Korra to ask. “Oh. Umm... well, I thought... I thought...I didn’t want to just assume...” She trailed off and came back with a different approach. “Where do you want to sleep?”

Korra couldn’t help but laugh at Asami’s inability to answer the question. She crossed the room until she was standing in front of the actress. Without a word, she stepped closer until their bodies were touching. She pressed her mouth to Asami’s neck and ran her lips over the soft skin, loving the way it felt. She placed a kiss on her jaw and said, “Where do you think?”

Asami’s breath came out slightly ragged. “Well, my bed is very comfortable...”

“Then that’s settled.” Korra smiled, but stepped away. Touching Asami made her brain malfunction and she needed to think. She looked up into green eyes. “Are you nervous about sleeping with me?” The answer seemed obvious, but she wanted to know what Asami would say.

“Aren’t you?”

Of course she was. But the nervousness was almost irrelevant now; she was mostly excited.

She’d tried to imagine her first time with Asami, the when and where and how of it. She’d replayed it all a thousand times in her head. It could happen anywhere. It could happen any time. It could happen now, if she wanted; if they wanted. The thought made her heart beat faster. She looked from Asami’s lips to her eyes. “Not really,” she said. It was a lie, but she could feel the nervous tension between them and she didn’t want it to be that way. She wanted their first time together, whenever it came, to be like everything else between them: fun, unpredictable.

“You’re not?” Asami both looked, and sounded, surprised.

Korra shrugged, adopting a casual stance, as if they were discussing something entirely neutral, like the weather. “Well, it’s your first time. So, I figure you’ll probably love anything I do to you.”

Asami tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. And I suppose your sexual experience with women vastly surpasses mine?”

Korra smiled, relaxing. “As a matter-of-fact, it does. I mean, just today I’ve made love to you about a hundred times in my head.”

Asami’s expression was almost comical; a mixture of surprise and amusement and curiosity. “Really.” She seemed to ponder this revelation. “And how was I?”

Korra pretended to seriously consider the question, while trying desperately not to blush. She’d meant it all as a joke, and yet the truth of it was evident. She had made love to Asami a hundred times in her head, and it had been amazing. And she imagined the reality would be even better. “Mediocre,” she said. “You could use some practice.”

“I see.” Asami nodded slowly. “And you?”

“Oh, I was unbelievable,” Korra said in mock seriousness. “Best you ever had.”

Asami laughed and the sound filled Korra with insurmountable happiness. “Well, then, I guess I’m not nervous anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah. Here I was operating under the assumption that you’d expect me to be good in bed. But now that I know you’re only expecting a mediocre performance, well, that’s a load off my mind.” She smiled brightly and leaned down to kiss Korra’s cheek. “You, on the other hand, have your work cut out for you. I mean, I had high expectations to begin with, but now... wow.” She grinned and started down the stairs. “Can’t wait to see what unbelievable things you do to me.”

Korra stared at Asami’s back, thrown by the sudden shift of logic.

Halfway down the steps, Asami turned and gazed up at her. “Want to go grocery shopping?”

***

To Asami’s dismay, a couple of overachieving Paparazzi followed them to the grocery store, armed and ready with their usual arsenal of attention-seeking calls: “Asami, over here!” “How was New York?” And the new addition to the collection: “Asami, who’s your friend?” She ignored them and instructed Korra to do the same, as they made their way inside. The guys lingered by the automatic doors, but didn’t follow.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said to Korra once they’d reached a place of relative privacy.

“Guess I should get used to it.” Korra seemed unfazed and Asami was relieved that the mood between them hadn’t changed. “So I guess the photo caption will read something like, ‘Asami Sato and unknown friend stop for groceries.’”

“We can tell them to make it ‘and lesbian lover’ if you prefer?”

Korra nodded thoughtfully as they headed toward the produce section. “It’s got a better ring to it, you have to admit.”

Asami smiled, partly amused by the prospect, but mostly just happy to be there, pushing a shopping cart with Korra by her side. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend that they were like any other couple out for the weekly errands. She liked the thought. She liked the ease with which these routine moments slipped into their relationship, wrapping them in a temporary, but comforting illusion of normalcy.

“You never did make me those supposedly amazing seaweed noodles.”

“Then we’ll make them later this week. I found a new chicken recipe we should try tonight though,” Asami said cheerfully.

“We?”

“Yes, we,” she said, suddenly giddy with the thought of cooking together. “Do Kuvira and Megan like seaweed noodles?”

“I don’t know about Megan, but Kuvira will eat anything. What time are they all coming over?”

“Seven,” Asami said, and grabbed her cell phone to look at the time. She glanced thoughtfully at Korra. “Maybe we should make it seven-thirty. What do you think?”

Korra answered with a smile. “I think we should’ve left our friends in New York.”

The answer made Asami laugh and she was instantly reminded of their earlier conversation. In truth, her thoughts hadn’t wandered far from the subject of sleeping arrangements and... other related matters. She bit her lip as her erstwhile nervousness returned. Korra might’ve made love to her a hundred times in her head – an admission that made Asami’s pulse race each time she thought back on it – but by now Asami had lost count of how many times she’d undressed Korra in her mind. If sexual experience was granted on the basis and frequency of one’s private fantasies, then she had nothing at all to worry about.

“...cabbage?”

Asami blinked at the multicolored row of vegetables in front of her, realizing that Korra had spoken to her and that she’d missed it. “I’m sorry. What?”

Instead of repeating the question, Korra studied her curiously. “What were you thinking about just now?”

Asami’s first instinct was to change the subject, but decided against it at the last minute.

She took the cabbage Korra held in her hands and smiled. “I’ll show you later.”

***

Back in the kitchen, the garlic simmered in a frying pan while Asami and Korra set about the task of mincing the chicken and ginger and garlic and greens. There were few things in life that Asami loved more than cooking, but cooking alongside Korra had quickly risen to the top of the list. From the corner of her eye, she watched the muscles in Korra’s arm move in rhythm with the knife hitting the cutting board. She loved Korra’s arms: strong, muscular, and defined. Her gaze shifted to Korra’s face, to the focused blue eyes partly hidden beneath her lashes; to the slightly parted lips.

Distracted, that’s what Asami was. Dangerously distracted. She remembered the knife. She looked down at what she was doing, surprised – and relieved - to find that her fingers were still intact.

“Who taught you to cook?” Korra asked a second later.

“My grandmother.” The answer came automatically, and for the first time in a very long time Asami realized that she wanted to say more. “She was an awesome cook. She married rich, but grew up poor. Her mother, my great-grandmother died when my grandmother was young, and she was the only female left in the household. So she learned to cook. And even after she married my grandfather and went from rags to riches, she still preferred to cook her own meals. So she taught me to do the same.”

“Because she didn’t want you to be a spoiled brat?”

Asami laughed and glanced at her, then returned to the business of chopping cabbage. She mulled over the question. “She was good at keeping me in line. I think she was worried about who I might become. I mean, it wasn’t just that I grew up with money; it was everything else: my mom’s death, my father’s distance. And then came the acting and the fame. And I think she was scared that I’d begin to unravel or that I’d let it all go to my head. But it was never about the fame or the money for me. It was about...” She trailed off because she wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. “It was about my mom,” she said, after many seconds had passed. “And it was about my dad disconnecting from me because I reminded him of her. And it was about him marrying this awful other woman that I’m pretty sure he’s never loved. And I just wanted to disappear and be someone else for a while.”

Asami realized that she’d never been this candid with anyone before. She’d kept the details of her past hidden away; bolted shut and inaccessible. And yet here she was, pouring her heart out over chopped garlic, over questions that could’ve been answered with a word, with a nod or a smile. She felt exposed. She suddenly worried that she’d said too much, that Korra might see some other, less appealing, side to her.

“Thanks,” Korra said.

And Asami looked at her, confused. “For what?” The look in Korra’s eyes anchored her, stilling her anxiety.

“For answering my somewhat invasive questions. I know you said you didn’t like to talk about it.”

The garlic in the pan simmered further and Asami moved quickly to lower the heat.

The distraction gave her a moment to think. She couldn’t remember when she might’ve said those words to Korra, but they seemed irrelevant now. “Just because I don’t like to talk about it doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes need to,” she said. “Besides, I’d tell you anything.” 

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m in love with you.” It was only after she’d said it that she realized what she’d said. She froze, the spatula hovering in mid-air. This was not how she’d pictured this particular revelation. In her mind, there had always been soft music playing and maybe candles. In her mind, Korra had not been holding a knife. She kicked herself into action, intent on not letting things get awkward. “Can you taste these and tell me if they need more salt?”

Korra had been silently staring at her for the past few seconds and Asami had no idea what she was thinking. Without a word, she accepted the offered spatula into her mouth, wincing almost immediately. “H...ot.”

“You were supposed to blow on it!”

Korra waved her hand in front of her face and then painfully swallowed. “You just told me that you’re in love with me and I’m supposed to remember to blow on food?”

Asami bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t at all how I’d planned that particular confession.”

“No? How had you planned it, then?”

“We were standing in a field of flowers, running towards each other in slow motion...”

“And then we ended up running past each other?”

“I can’t believe you’re referencing a campy 80s movie in the middle of my totally romantic confession.”

“I can’t believe you’ve even seen that movie,” Korra said, laughing. “No one has seen that movie.” She grinned. “You weren’t serious about the field of flowers, were you?”

Asami smiled. “No.” No, in truth, she hadn’t really had much of a plan to begin with, which is probably why she’d ended up blurting it out in the first place.

“What about Taylor?”

Taylor? “What?”

“I mean,” Korra said, sounding uncertain, “are things over between you? You had a date just last week and then she was in your apartment in the morning and I know you said you didn’t sleep together but...”

“Oh.” Asami had forgotten all about Taylor. “We’re just friends. Hardly even that, actually. For a while I thought she’d be a nice distraction from my feelings for you, but that was hopeless. Nothing ever happened between us.” Had Korra been worried about her and Taylor this whole time? She frowned at the thought, confused by its implication. “I would’ve never...” She would’ve never pursued something with Korra without ending things with Taylor, had there been anything with Taylor to end. But a different thought interrupted the first one. “Do you want us to be dating other people?”

“God, no.” Korra looked stricken by the question. “I just... I needed to know. You never said.”

“I’m sorry.” She simply hadn’t thought to. Korra had kissed her the next day and everything else had ceased to be important. “There’s never been anyone else, Korra. Just you.”

Korra smiled at that. She turned back to the half-cut chicken and resumed slicing. “The garlic is perfect, by the way.”

***

Asami was in love with her. The knowledge was all-consuming, making her stomach flutter as they cooked. She felt a sudden ache in her heart. Asami was in love with her. She wanted to say it back but she choked on the words. I. Chop. Love. Chop. You. Chop. Too.

She concentrated on the chicken. Silence fell over them; not uncomfortable, exactly, but obvious. She was aware of it and how it highlighted the cadence of all the other sounds around them; the things that weren’t words. Chop. Chop. Chop.

The moment had passed. If she said it now it would sound like an afterthought; something she didn’t really mean. It would have to be later, then. She stole a glance at Asami, out of reflex, out of need. So beautiful that face; so perfectly, flawlessly beautiful. Their eyes met.

Jesus, Korra thought, desire shooting up and down her body. She wasn’t going to make it until tonight.

“What?” Asami asked softly.

I want you. I want you naked and I want you against me and I want you beneath me. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again. She cleared her throat. “The food smells good.”

“Well, hopefully it tastes good too.”

Korra’s mind wandered. Chop. Chop. Chop.

It was going to be a long day.

***

Their friends arrived promptly at seven-thirty, their voices loud and animated; a frenzy of anecdotes from their version of the day.

“...so, then we went to this other store—“

“Tell them about the tall guy!”

“Oh, God. The tall guy. He was like—wait, what did he say first? I forget.”

“Something about the frog in his pants.”

“Ribbit. Ribbit.”

They dissolved into laughter and Korra laughed along, not quite following, but amused all the same by the happiness in their voices. She felt better now, more in control of her emotions.

The shower had helped. She felt renewed. Asami was in love with her. She felt it, too, now. Whereas before she could only feel the weight of her own feelings, now she could easily see that Asami shared them. It was written all over her face when the actress smiled that magazine-cover smile at her.

Dinner was served on the patio despite the slight chill in the air and no one seemed to mind.

Conversation warmed the salty air. The pool glowed beside them, turquoise water spilling over the edge of the world, emptying into a vast and endless nothing. The sea roared unseen in the night.

Happiness, Korra thought. This was happiness. A round table filled with her favorite people, and those who would undoubtedly become her favorite people soon enough. She liked Bolin and Opal. She didn’t know them, but she liked them. She liked the easy way in which they’d welcomed her into Asami’s life. She liked their sense of humor. Bolin, in particular, made her laugh a lot.

“...and besides, there’s nothing wrong with putting ketchup on scrambled eggs,” Bolin was saying. 

Korra giggled. She was relieved that both Megan and Kuvira seemed to be enjoying their time with Asami’s friends. At first she’d felt guilty, thinking her friends would feel abandoned if she stayed alone with Asami. But Opal was supposed to be catching Megan up on all the need-to-know basics of her new role as Asami’s assistant, and Kuvira... Well, Kuvira just wanted her to get laid.

“This is orgasmic.”

“So good.”

The food, Korra realized. They were talking about the food now. And yes, it was delicious.

“Did you make all this yourself, Asami?” Megan asked, and Korra noted the shyness in her tone.

She knew that Megan was still overwhelmed by her new position, still intimidated by Asami Sato. Telling her that she was dating Asami had been entertaining. Tara’s reaction had merely consisted of wide eyes and rapid blinking, possibly because Megan had taken care of freaking out for the both of them. She’d let Megan freak out. In a way it was cathartic to watch her flail her arms around and pace in disbelief. “No fucking way,” she’d said, again and again. Yes, Korra had told both Megan and herself, way.

“Korra and I did,” was Asami’s reply.

“She greatly exaggerates my role in the matter,” Korra said. But she was quietly delighted by how it all sounded. She and Asami had made dinner. She and Asami had set the table.

Together. We. Us. She caught Asami’s gaze and held it. Can you read my mind? she wondered. No, probably not. I love you, she thought anyway. Just in case she could.

They finished eating, but the conversation flowed along in a random assortment of topics that had little relevance to each other.

“Was that a box of lesbian porn I saw by the door?” Kuvira asked.

“It’s Bolin’s,” Asami said quickly, like a reflex.

Korra hid a grin behind her napkin.

“I thought they could use the research,” Bolin supplied.

“He was hiding it from Opal,” Asami said.

“You were hiding lesbian porn from me?” Opal frowned at him. “See, this is why we’re fighting.”

Megan raised both eyebrows. “You’re fighting over lesbian porn?”

Casually, Kuvira asked, “So, you two are fighting forever then?”

“Yes,” Opal answered, finality in her voice. You could almost hear the period. End of sentence.

“It’s complicated,” Bolin added. His was an ellipsis. Dot dot dot.

“More wine?” Asami held up the bottle. Everyone but Korra held up their glasses. “Wait, which one of you is driving?”

“Oh, we thought we’d just sleep over,” Bolin said.

It took Korra a second to realize he was joking. She’d had a moment of panic at the prospect.

She relaxed when he winked at her.

Bolin put his glass down, resigned. “I’m driving,” he said. “So, I guess I’ll be good.”

Eventually, they cleared the table and migrated to the living room. Bolin had brought the after-dinner entertainment: Rock Band. Korra had never played before, and tried in vain to sit it out, but the plastic guitar was nonetheless shoved into her hands, and the musical notes began to fly down the screen. She tried. Really. But she was booed off stage almost immediately. Her friends cheered her on regardless. Laughing at her ineptitude, Korra passed the guitar to someone else.

Bolin and Opal showed off their skills, instantly giving away how often they’d played this. Megan and Kuvira managed to get through their songs...barely. Kuvira’s strategy was to move around chaotically while banging her fingers on the colored buttons. Megan resorted to cursing.

Asami had disappeared towards the start of the game to answer a phone call and Korra kept glancing toward the stairs, impatient for her return.

“I can’t believe this house,” Kuvira said, while across from them Bolin and Opal rocked out to a four-song set.

Megan joined the conversation, sitting on the other side of Korra. “I can’t believe you and Asami Sato are a couple,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she said to make sure the actress wasn’t nearby. “I mean, I believe it, but I don’t believe it.”

“Bolin is so hot,” Kuvira said, changing the subject. “I want to like...bite him.”

“I’m right there with you, sister. Except for me, it's Opal,” Megan said.

Korra started to frown at Kuvira then decided that Megan was more deserving of her disapproval. “Tara,” she said meaningfully. “Remember her? My sister?” 

“Also hot,” Kuvira said, nodding.

Megan waved her hand around dismissively. “Relax, 'was just joking. I love your sister very, v...very much.”

“Man, I’m so glad I’m single,” Kuvira said. “I bet he’d sleep with me, too.”

They were both drunk, Korra realized. Not that they’d be saying anything different had they been sober, she acknowledged. “I’m not sure Opal would like that very much.”

“I asked her already. She said she didn’t care.”

“Never trust a woman who says she doesn’t care if you sleep with her boyfriend,” Megan said sagely.

Korra wanted out of this conversation. Where was Asami? She glanced back toward the stairs. Nothing. She stifled a sigh.

“You haven’t had sex with her yet, have you?” Kuvira asked suddenly.

“Oh, my God,” Megan said, as if the thought had jolted her awake. “Have you?” She looked deeply into Korra’s eyes. After a second, she deflated. “Nope. She hasn’t.”

Korra blinked. “What? How do you know that?”

“It’s all over you,” Kuvira answered for her.

“What is?”

“Sexual frustration.”

The song ended. They clapped. Korra’s mind swam. She glanced over her shoulder again. “We should go,” Kuvira said suddenly. “And let the lovebirds get to their business.”

Bolin grinned at Korra, as if she’d been the one to speak. “A fine idea.” He glanced at the TV as if coming to a decision. “I’ll just leave you the Xbox.”

“Do you guys want to go anywhere?” Opal asked, as she turned off the television and the console on the floor. “The night is young.”

“Like a club?” Kuvira asked, interested.

Korra listened to the exchange with growing anxiety. She’d been wishing them to leave for a while, but now she felt unsettled by their unexpected departure. Had she done something? Did her eyes flash, “Get out; I want sex?” She felt self-conscious.

The group began walking toward the front door. Korra trailed after them.

“Bye, Asami!” Bolin called from the bottom of the stairs. “The sex pad is all yours! Make me proud.”

Asami walked out of her room, then, gazing down at them from the bridge beside the stairs. The phone was in her hand. “You’re leaving?” She didn’t sound disappointed, just surprised.

“Places to go,” Bolin replied. “We’re taking these crazy New Yorkers out for a night on the town. Show them how it’s really done.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Opal added, addressing the sentiment both to Asami and Korra, and Kuvira and Megan jumped in to echo it. To Asami she said, “The meeting at the studio is tomorrow at...” She glanced at Megan, encouraging her to finish the sentence for her.

Megan looked taken aback by the sudden shift in focus. But she recovered quickly, looking up at Asami. “Three.”

“I’ll be there,” Asami said. To Bolin, she said, “Take those with you.” She pointed to the box of videos.

Bolin chuckled and complied. “You are so not fun.”

The door opened and, after a chorus of goodbyes, the door closed.

In the sudden silence, Korra’s heart pounded louder than she’d realized. Her boldness, where had it gone? She felt a wave of nervousness wash over her as she looked up at Asami. Nervousness and desire. “Mind if I come up?” Her voice was steady, confident. She surprised herself.

Asami smiled down at her with that smile that made Korra melt on the spot. “You don’t have to ask.”

Korra started up the stairs.

***

“So, what did I miss?” They walked into the bedroom. The bedroom. The bed. Asami’s gaze darted to the object at the center of the room and then she looked away, turning, instead, to look at something safer: the desk, the floor, the lamp on her desk. And then at something far less safe: Korra.

Korra lingered near the doorway, wearing an expression Asami had never seen before but recognized as expectation. “Just that I suck at Rock Band,” she said. Her voice betrayed none of her thoughts. She motioned to the phone in Asami’s hand. “Everything okay?”

Relatively speaking, she thought, and put the phone down. Somewhere in downtown Los Angeles her publicist was having a meltdown. If someone were to ask Cynthia Reyes whether everything was okay, the answer would be a resounding kick to the groin. But as far as Asami was concerned everything was fine; more than fine. “Yes.” She didn’t want to talk about that. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did. And you were right about that chicken recipe.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

@@@@@@@@@@

They stared at each other, their eyes expressing what their words didn’t.

This had always been one possible scenario: The two of them standing awkwardly in her room, wanting to move towards each other but not knowing how. In fantasies it was easier to gloss over the uncomfortable gaps of indecision. You could always go back, start over.

But reality had that tricky habit of bringing forth the questions and lining them up like mystery doors. One choice would nullify all options.

No good answer. No bad answer.

“It occurs to me,” Korra said, and Asami breathed at the sound of her voice. “That there’s a few million people that would love to be in my place right now.”

“Standing awkwardly by my door?”

“Maybe not awkwardly...”

“So, you’d like to trade places with someone?”

Korra stared back at her, the hint of a smile on her lips. “Not for anything in the world.” She pushed the bedroom door closed, her hand lingering on the handle before dropping to her side.

Asami’s gaze strayed from Korra’s eyes and landed on her hands. Obvious. She felt obvious. Obvious and dizzy. Looking at Korra didn’t help matters. Those blue eyes looked back. In their depths, Asami saw the challenge. They dared her to make the first move.

“Nervous?” Korra asked, her tone teasing. She stepped toward Asami, coming to rest inches away. Not touching her, but almost.

She was close enough for Asami to feel the warmth emanating from her body. Close enough to smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. Close enough to kiss her.

Nervous? Yes. Nervous. Excited. Turned on. Korra hadn’t even touched her and her skin felt aflame. She closed the sliver of space between them, finding Korra’s lips with her own, finding in that kiss the lost traces of her confidence. Her lips parted, and she caressed Korra’s tongue with her own, the sensation rushing through her, over her. She swayed, her eyes closing; the ground beneath her feet no longer solid.

Korra dropped her mouth to Asami’s neck, began unbuttoning Asami’s shirt, her knuckles grazing Asami’s breasts as they slid down the path, lips following suit, leaving a trail of kisses on bare skin. Everywhere. Asami felt her everywhere, making her feel wild and desperate. The shirt fell to the ground.

She kissed Korra again, and this time the kiss was unfamiliar in both purpose and intensity. It took both of them by surprise.

Clothes; too many clothes between them. She pulled Korra’s t-shirt over her head, wanting, needing to feel more of her. She trailed a finger down the newly exposed skin. It was Korra who closed her eyes this time. And Asami’s heart filled with emotion at the sight. She’d played this role before, but now she felt it. She felt it in every fiber of her being. Love and lust intermingling.

Korra’s hand was on her belt, tugging the leather strap free of the metal buckle. Unbuttoning the jeans, unzipping. Each action a new sensation. The jeans slid to the ground.

“You’re so hot,” Korra said, and her voice sounded different.

Asami smiled. The compliment was not new, but the context infused the words with fresh meaning. “It would be tragic if you didn’t think I was.”

“Tragic.” Korra laughed. She pulled Asami closer, kissing her neck again. “Yes.”

Asami tried to concentrate on removing Korra’s own jeans, but each touch from Korra made her forget what she was doing. One button and one zipper. It wasn’t rocket science. “You’re distracting me... from a very important goal,” she said, and her voice sounded different too. It came out in spurts of air.

Another laugh. “Am I? I’m sorry.” She stood back, hands behind her back. “Better?”

Free of other distractions, Asami felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of Korra: her bra, her full breasts, her toned stomach, the curve of her waist. She forgot what she was doing.

Korra reminded her by undoing the jeans herself. She lowered them slowly until they fell to the ground of their own accord. “How about now?”

She sounded amused, but Asami didn’t know if Korra was smiling or not because she wasn’t looking at her face. “Beautiful,” she heard someone that sounded like her say.

“It would be equally tragic if you didn’t think I was.”

She looked up, then, and smiled. She hooked a finger in Korra’s bra and tugged her towards her. Brand new sensations: almost naked skin against almost naked skin. She kissed Korra again, running her fingers down the length of Korra’s spine. When Korra gasped against her lips, Asami grinned. She felt lightheaded, her mind a daze. She was operating now purely on instinct. Desire. Need.

Her hands went to Korra’s waist, and she urged her, gently, but with clear intent, toward the bed. They didn’t fall onto it, but almost. Still kissing. And God, Korra felt good underneath her. She wanted to touch her everywhere at once, every inch of Korra’s body felt like an explosion against her palms. She ran her tongue down Korra’s neck, feeling the steady vibrations of her pulse. She slid a thigh between Korra’s legs, and this drew a new sound: something between a choked gasp and a moan.

“Jesus,” Korra said, her eyes closed.

Asami agreed with the sentiment as Korra reached around to unhook her bra. She felt the straps fall to down her arms.

“Wait, this isn’t right.” Before Asami could question what that meant, Korra had shifted their weight and Asami found herself suddenly staring up at her, her back against the sheets.

Her eyes shut and her breath caught in her throat as Korra’s body came into contact with hers again. She might not survive this, Asami thought briefly. Maybe if she’d paced herself over the years, experienced this moment in varied bursts of pleasure rather than all together, then, maybe, she would stand a chance.

“That’s better,” she heard Korra say. When she opened her eyes, Korra was looking at her, her expression such mixture of emotions that Asami had no idea which stood at the forefront.

Asami ached. She ached in places she’d never ached before. She ached for things she couldn’t name.

“I’d like to reiterate my earlier comment,” Korra said.

“That this isn’t right?”

“No, before that.”

“Jesus?”

“That, too.” Korra bit her lip, looking into Asami’s eyes. “There’s so much I want to do to you I don’t know where to start.”

Asami shivered at the words. “Anywhere.”

“Anywhere,” Korra echoed, and kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that Asami felt all the way to her toes. And then Korra’s mouth moved down; down to her chin, neck, down to her shoulders, down to one breast, then the next. Asami drew in a deep breath in an effort not to cry out, and still a moan escaped. Crazy. Any second now, she was sure to go crazy.

Korra’s tongue left a wet trail down Asami’s stomach, as the last article remaining on her body was pulled down, down, down. Off.

“I think I might be addicted to you,” Korra said.

“I can’t think.” Asami heard Korra laugh, and she smiled at the sound, but she wasn’t kidding. Korra’s hand was traveling ever-so-slowly up her inner thigh, and Asami was glad that breathing came automatically because she was certain she’d forgotten how to do it herself.

Then the hand was gone, and Asami sighed. “You have to know this is torture,” she managed to say.

“Good torture?” Korra’s mouth was near Asami’s ear now.

“Mmm,” Asami said. “I’ll be sure to ask you the same question when you’re the one begging.”

“Are you begging me for something, Ms. Sato?”

Instead of answering, Asami turned her head and kissed her, her arms wrapping around Korra’s waist pulling her down firmly on top of her. She reached for the clasp on Korra’s bra and released it with little fanfare. Korra lifted herself up, shedding away the garment. When their bodies touched again, they both moaned.

And then Korra’s hand was back, sliding down Asami’s body, and this time didn’t stop until it landed exactly where Asami needed it to. The contact made Asami jerk, a cry lost in her throat; the feeling more intense than she’d been prepared for.

“You make me insane.”

Asami would’ve laughed if she’d been able. Insane is exactly what Korra’s fingers were making her. She moved to the flow of each sensation. She was lost; lost to the rhythm of Korra moving inside her, over her, their bodies sliding together.

“Am I hurting you?”

No. No, she was beyond hurting. Floating somewhere between bliss and euphoria, assuming the two weren’t one in the same.

And then her mind went fully blank. She may or may not have stopped moving. She may or may not have made a sound. She thought perhaps she had died for a split second, except that at all times she felt Korra’s body on hers, tethering her down; heard the soft lips at her ear whispering, “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the sex scene, Korra drops the L bomb at the very end. That’s about all you missed. 
> 
> Sorry for posting this chapter so late. My life has been incredibly crazy lately. Part of me just feels like I’m prolonging the inevitable end though 🙈


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

I love you, Korra thought a thousand times that evening. There had been other thoughts, too—thoughts full of pauses, separated by gasps and moans and cries of pleasure—but she couldn’t remember them. What she remembered was realizing that she loved everything about Asami. She loved her body and her skin and the way she held Korra tighter when she came. She loved the way Asami touched her, with a mixture of diffidence and confidence.

She loved Asami’s hands and her fingers and her tongue; definitely her tongue.

Korra opened her mouth to speak; to say something along the lines of, “You killed me.” But all that came out was an incomprehensible sound. Her body felt like Jell-O, but heavier; like a Jell-O rock. Her mind swam. She was aware of the damp sheets beneath her back, of the fact that time had moved forward and into the early morning. But mainly, she was aware of Asami. Of Asami’s mouth planting kisses on her thighs... on her hip... on her stomach.

“Yes?” Asami said, and Korra could hear the smile in her voice. “Were you trying to say something?”

She gathered what was left of her brain power and tried again. “Don’t you sound smug?”

“Well, you were moaning rather emphatically.”

Korra opened her eyes to find Asami gazing down at her, and whatever coherent thoughts had formulated in her mind fluttered away. She felt breathless. She wanted to say too many things at once; to pour out every last one of her emotions and make Asami understand that this evening and every second in it had filled her with uncontainable happiness. She wanted to blurt out promises and declarations and ramble uncontrollably. But she was lucid enough to know that all of that was perhaps too much at this hour of the morning, and maybe too much in general.

“What are you thinking?” Asami asked.

“I’m thinking... that I meant what I said earlier.”

“The ‘oh, yes, right there?’ I could tell.”

“Before that.”

“That you love my breasts?”

She grinned. “Yes, most certainly that. And also, that I love you.” The statement sounded loud in the relative silence of the room. She’d said these words before, in a not-so-distant-past, to someone else entirely, but she had never felt vulnerable while saying them. Nothing about tonight or about this relationship felt like anything that had come before, and that was both exciting and terrifying.

Asami smiled and Korra melted a little at the sight. She shifted her weight and lay down against Korra’s side, resting her head on Korra’s chest.

Korra’s breath caught at the sensation. She would never tire of this, she thought. She was already addicted.

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Korra said. “It’s not like there’s a super-hot girl lying naked against me or anything.”

“Right.”

“Seriously. When you look in the mirror you don’t think to yourself, ‘God, I’m so gorgeous. How am I allowed to exist among mortals?’”

Asami laughed. “Is that what you think when you look in the mirror?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Korra said. “And then I think, ‘Asami Sato is so lucky to have me.’”

“Asami Sato is indeed very lucky.”

I’m the lucky one, she thought, but didn’t say. Korra wanted to say too many things again and none of them sounded right in her head, which meant they’d sound even worse aloud.

Tonight had been incredible and she didn’t have the words to express how she felt about it all. Touching Asami felt like a gift. Just holding Asami felt like a gift. She wanted to tell Asami all of this, but didn’t know how. Saying ‘I love you’ didn’t seem like enough.

Perhaps she could paint it. She would fill a hundred canvases with her spectrum of emotions and give them all to Asami. Here, she would say, this is how I feel about you.

The thought relaxed her.

She held Asami closer and closed her eyes.

***

Asami lay awake long after Korra had fallen asleep. Every time she forced her eyes closed, they would open again, and each time, a part of her worried that Korra would be gone. But Korra was there, always, bathed in the pale hues of morning, and Asami realized it wasn’t fear, but wonder, that kept her awake.

She watched the sunlight set Korra’s hair aglow, watched the shadows dance across her bare shoulders. She could touch her, Asami thought. If she wanted, she could run her fingers down the smooth skin of her arms; slip her hand beneath the sheets and caress her breasts.

She could kiss her.

Asami had always feared the uncertainty of making love for the first time. She was sure the experience would be charged with awkwardness and that it would somehow be her fault.

But with Korra she’d been afraid of more than a poor performance. She had feared that despite the sincerity of what had come before, at the end of it all, Korra would turn to her and say, “I don’t think I can do this.”

Instead, Korra had said I love you. And Asami, for all of her insecurities, believed her. She had seen it in Korra’s eyes, in the looks that passed between them during all the wordless, forgotten moments. She had felt it in the way Korra touched her; heard it in the way Korra moaned her name. She had tasted it in the warm liquid that spilled against her tongue. She could taste her, still. She could hear her, feel the movement of her hips; the softness of her skin.

Korra loved her.

And all the other things that comprised Asami’s life felt small in comparison. She had a life outside these walls; a life, a career, and the clamoring of strangers’ expectations. She had the life she had spent years building, protecting, holding sacred above all things. But that life felt distant now. She felt stripped of all that which had once defined her. Here, now, was a different part of her; perhaps the real part of her, set free at last.

She took Korra’s hand and held it, marveling, still, at being able to do so. She would have to sleep, soon. There was still that life out there, waiting on her. She would have to face Cynthia. She would have to face Lin. Sooner or later, she would have to bear the weight of their concern.

But holding Korra’s hand, she had no concerns of her own. And that was new. That was different.

Everything was different.

***

The pillow against her cheek was softer than she remembered; the sheets, too. Her eyelids felt heavy, so she kept her eyes closed, and listened. Absent were the sound of cars and shouting neighbors, of rusty old pipes protesting their continued use. It was around this point that Korra remembered that she wasn’t home in New York, but in Asami’s home; in Asami’s bed. And the realization pushed her forward into consciousness.

She blinked against the daylight. Beyond the glass doors that led to the balcony, there was nothing but clear, blue sky, and the sight made her smile. She felt – and she was certain this had little to do with the weather – a bubbling sense of excitement.

When she turned over, she expected to find Asami still sleeping beside her, but Asami wasn’t there. Korra frowned at the empty spot on the bed, her excitement dropping at the thought that Asami might have left without saying goodbye. But then she heard Asami’s voice on the other side of the door, and relaxed.

“That’s fine,” she heard Asami say, but couldn’t make out the rest.

Waiting alone in bed, trying hard not to eavesdrop, felt silly, so Korra opted to get on with her morning. She grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom to shower.

Asami’s house wasn’t big by rich-people standards, or at least, what Korra imagined those standards to be. But it was luxurious. Everything in it spoke of fine, expensive tastes; the furniture, the décor, the state- of-the art, top-of-the-line brand names that covered everything from Asami’s clothing to her kitchen appliances.

The bathroom was no different. And even after a day, Korra still felt like she was walking around a magazine spread. From the white, above-counter water basins, to the sand-colored marble walls, to the steam shower, everything looked so pristine that she was almost afraid to touch anything. Almost.

Despite her life-long disapproval of extravagant showers that wasted unnecessary water, Korra had to admit that the multiple sprays felt incredible. But standing there, she mostly wished that Asami would get off the phone and come join her. After making love all night she didn’t imagine that showering together was out of the question; unless, of course, Asami wouldn’t want to. What was the proper relationship naked- time etiquette? She’d never thought about these things with Mako.

In retrospect, it was clear that she hadn’t cared enough to wonder about these things. She’d gone with the ebb and flow of his desires. But Korra had desires of her own, and at this moment, those included making out with her girlfriend, naked, preferably, and, if she was lucky, getting to soap her up.

She entertained herself with thoughts, since Asami never showed, no matter how many mental messages Korra sent her way. She was probably too shy, Korra decided, sometime between drying off and brushing her teeth. It’s not like one night in bed together automatically revealed what personal boundaries were okay to cross. They’d have to work on that, she thought, wrapping her body in a towel and stepping out into the bedroom.

Asami was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring down at her phone, but she looked up the second she heard the door open. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Korra said, feeling that bubbling excitement again at the sight of Asami’s smile. There was something in the way Asami was looking at her that made her feel bold. “I guess you didn’t get my messages.”

Asami frowned and glanced down at the phone again.

“Telepathic messages,” Korra added. “The ones saying, ‘Come join me in the shower.’ I must have sent like a thousand.”

“A thousand,” Asami said, tossing her phone aside and rising to her feet. “I’d fire your telepathic message provider.” She had slipped into black yoga pants and a white tank top, and looked like she was on her way to film a How to Get in Shape video. It seemed unfair, Korra thought, that this beautiful woman was hers. 

When Asami walked up to her, Korra was reminded of the morning she’d showed up at Asami’s apartment and found her standing in a towel. She could still smell her shampoo, she could still see the way the drops of water rolled off Asami’s perfect skin. She’d wanted to kiss her so badly; almost as badly as she wanted to kiss her now. But now there was nothing standing in their way, nothing beyond ever-fading uncertainty, and the worry that maybe she wanted this too much; if it was possible to want something too much.

As always, when Asami kissed her, she forgot to think, and the wanting spread to every part of her body. Unlike all their kisses before last night, this one came with a new level of intensity. Each time their tongues met, her body responded to the memory of Asami’s mouth bringing her to orgasm.

“I think you missed a spot,” Asami said, tugging on the towel until it fell to the floor. She sounded as breathless as Korra felt.

Korra felt too lightheaded to respond, so she simply let Asami lead her back into the shower.

***

Korra insisted on making breakfast, though by the time they got downstairs it was long past breakfast time. Toast was probably the safest thing on her personal menu, but she decided to be wild and go for the closest thing she had to a specialty: omelets. She burned half of one and the second one took on a bizarre shape that could have been anything from a deformed whale to a tail-less cat. It occurred to Korra that she cooked the way Asami drew.

The thought made her smirk.

They ate out on the terrace, and Korra alternated between looking around – at the house, at the blue-green ocean, at the glistening waters of the pool – and staring at Asami. She must have done something right in a past life to merit all of this. Even the weather was smiling down on her. But she still felt anxious. A bit how she imagined Cinderella must have felt the night of the ball. The clock had to strike midnight eventually.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” Asami asked.

“Were we supposed to have dinner apart?”

“Well, no. I just meant... at a restaurant. You know, out there.” She waved her hand in the general direction of the world at large.

“Where the flashing cameras are?”

“If it bothers you—“

“It doesn’t,” Korra said quickly. “I just thought that you’d want to lay low.”

“What I want is to live my life,” Asami said, “with you.”

“Are you proposing? Megan warned me this might move fast.”

Asami threw a balled up napkin at her, which only made it halfway across the table. “I’m asking you on a date.”

“Your aim is terrible. But I accept.”

“The wind cheated. And good.”

“Are we going someplace nice? I didn’t bring anything fancy to wear.”

Asami grinned and reached for her phone. “Manuel is going to love you,” she said, after a few seconds of typing.

Was that a yes to the fancy? “Manuel?” she asked. Korra had a feeling things were spinning out of her control. She’d had the distinct displeasure of accompanying Mako on a couple of his parents’ elite dinner parties and events, but those had been few and far between. Her idea of a fancy dinner was going to the Olive Garden. What constituted “fancy” in Asami’s estimation was anyone’s guess.

“He’s my go-to guy when it comes to matters of playing dress-up.”

“Oh.” So yes to the fancy.

Asami put the phone down, looking serious. “Is this too much? We can do something else.”

There were graver hardships than being spoiled by your girlfriend, Korra decided. Besides, she wanted to see more of Asami’s life. She felt like she was only beginning to scrape the surface, and she wanted to know it all. “Are you trying to back out of our date, Ms. Sato?”

Asami smiled. “Never.”

“Then I’m up for anything.”

“Anything, huh?”

Korra grinned, thoughts of their shower together dancing through her mind. “Anything.”

“Good to know.”

They were too far away, Korra thought. The table between them seemed longer than it had before. Was this what being addicted to someone felt like? “What time is your meeting?”

“Three,” Asami said, regret in her voice. “I should probably get ready.”

“Probably. Would you like some help? I’m getting really good at taking your clothes off.”

Asami’s smile was all the answer she needed.

***

Asami had never considered herself to be a happy person. She wasn’t dark or prone to bouts of depression. But she wasn’t bubbly or bouncy or cheerful. She had, up until very recently, considered herself to be level-headed, with her moods always in check, her emotions under control. That is, of course, until Korra; until love.

Love brought with it a world of unfamiliarity, full of actions without reason, spontaneous decisions, illogical choices. She pondered these on her way to the studio. She thought of her first email to Korra and how ludicrous it had seemed at the time; how ludicrous it still seemed, regardless of how well it all turned out.

In retrospect, none of it made sense to her. She’d acted on impulse from the very beginning, right from the moment she saw Korra’s artwork on the sidewalk. She’d fallen in love, then, without knowing it, without realizing how long she yet had to fall.

She was still falling, she acknowledged, and the thought brought with it a flurry of emotions, all of which boiled down to a single, indisputable fact: She was happy; happy in a sweeping, deep-rooted way that made her feel, for the first time ever, truly alive. It was love, then, not fame or fortune that made her feel worthwhile. It was love that made her feel, at last, like she had purpose. Love: the one thing she’d been avoiding most of her life.

She laughed at the irony. The light turned red and she turned on the radio and she turned up the sound and she tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

And in the car next to her, a little boy pressed his nose against the glass of the window, and she smiled at him and did the same. When he laughed she laughed with him.

Everything would be okay, she thought, as the light turned green.

***

Bolin snapped a picture of her the moment Asami stepped out of her car. He was grinning from ear to ear. “I’m putting this in my scrapbook under, ‘Asami loses her virginity.’”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to frown at him, but failing. The truth was, she couldn’t stop smiling, and her jaw was beginning to hurt. She was embarrassed by how transparent she must look.

“It’s a long story that involves drunkenness, disorderly conduct and a biker named Bubba Joe. Want to hear it?”

“On second thought, no. Where’s Opal?”

“Inside, with Lin. You’re late.”

“I’m not late.” She checked the time on her cell phone just to make sure.

“So how was it?” Bolin leaned against her car and crossed his arms. “Mind-blowing? I bet it was mind-blowing.”

“You know I’m not going to answer that.”

“You don’t have to. It’s all over your face. Look at you, you can’t stop smiling.” He snapped another picture. “So cute.”

Asami turned and started walking toward the building; mostly so that Bolin couldn’t see that she was blushing. Already she was certain that getting through this meeting would be challenging. She had very vivid, alluring images playing in her head that were likely not going away any time soon. Every time her mind wandered she was instantly back in bed with Korra. Each touch, each kiss, each sensation replayed across her mind in high definition.

“Good luck in there!” Bolin called after her. She was going to need it.

***

Korra spent most of the afternoon sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, her sketchpad open in front of her. Occasionally, she would draw, but mostly, she stared out at the ocean and thought.

She understood now what the professor had meant by finding passion. It wasn’t about sex; not exactly. It was about desire. It was about wanting. It was about allowing herself to want.

She’d become complaisant over the years. She’d become fearful of her family’s disapproval.

Their lack of support had worn her down. And she’d let it. She’d stood by and let the doubt seep in, take root and fester. Little by little she’d tried to fit the mold of their expectations.

She’d joined the art program because she’d wanted to, but she had hesitated. It would have been easier to choose a different career path; to choose the career path her mother wanted her to. Be a doctor, she’d said, time and time again. Be a lawyer. Make money. You can paint in your free time. And Korra had understood the logic in it all.

“It’s your life,” Kuvira had said, when Korra admitted that she wasn’t sure what to do. “You’re the one that has to live it. If you make the wrong choices at least you know they were yours.” She saw the logic in that, too.

In the end, she’d joined the art program because she’d wanted to, but she’d punished herself all the same. The burden of her mother’s disapproval was a constant weight around her shoulders. Then she’d met Mako and Mako became her compromise. She’d loved him, certainly, but what she loved most was the way her mother’s eyes lit up when he was with her. She loved the way her dad beamed with pride. It felt like at last she’d made a choice her family could be proud of.

Still, Korra hadn’t been happy. She wasn’t sure she’d known what happiness was until that very morning. She’d finally let go of the doubt and the uncertainty and the lingering what-ifs. She’d let go because she’d seen no doubts in Asami’s eyes and for the first time ever she understood that she wasn’t alone.

A day or two earlier, she would have felt presumptuous in thinking that Asami felt exactly as she did. But she’d seen it; more so, she’d felt it. And everything else fell into place.

If she’d chosen the path of least resistance she would not have made the sketch now hanging in Asami’s wall. She would not be sitting there now, staring at the ocean. She would be somewhere else entirely. She might be someone else entirely.

She had made the right decisions after all, but there were still many to be made. She would have to find the courage to stand up to her family eventually. She would have to tell them, not only about Asami, but about herself. Label or no label, bisexual or gay, Asami or no Asami, the truth remained the same. She was who she was. She loved who she loved. And hiding it made it no less true.

She ached for her paintbrushes and the realization made her smile.

***

“I think that went really well,” Lin said, as they stepped back out into the sunlight.

Asami slipped on her sunglasses and regarded her agent with a smile. The meeting had gone well, perhaps even better than that. She’d forgotten how badly she wanted this role and how much the opportunity meant to her. “I think it did, too.”

“I can tell,” Lin said, and grinned at her. “You look radiant.”

The comment made her pause and she looked behind her to make sure they were alone. “Lin, have you talked to Cynthia?”

“She left a few messages but I haven’t gotten around to checking them,” he said. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Asami hesitated. Outing herself to Lin hadn’t been on her to-do list for the day. She thought the news would make its way to her sooner or later and she was in no hurry to deal with her reaction. But it was wrong not to tell her herself. “That depends entirely on your perspective,” she said. She was stalling. They were alone, but she didn’t know for how much longer. “I’m gay,” she said, before she could think better of it.

“No, you’re not,” she said, without missing a beat.

Her reaction startled and confused her. “I am.”

“No,” she said, almost impatiently. “Asami Sato, the actress I represent, is not gay.” She hesitated, then sighed, and looked around before continuing. “Look, I get that this is a big thing for you and that maybe you’re hoping I hug you and tell you I’m proud. But you need to put the pride flag back in that secret place you’ve had it this whole time and focus. It’s not a good time. And I don’t mean right this second, standing in a parking lot. I mean it’s not a good time in your career.”

She let her words register before replying. “You knew?”

“Yes,” she said, “but that’s beside the point. Do you get what I’m saying to you? This film is your ticket forward. You want people to focus less on your looks and more on your acting talent? Well, this is your big chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

***

Korra wandered back into the house and stood in the living room for a long while. She wanted to take it all in, all the small details that made this Asami’s home. She wondered at all the decisions Asami had made. Why this house? Why this couch? Why that table? She glanced at the photographs along the wall and made her way to them. Looking at them only raised more questions.

She knew the biographic minutiae of Asami’s life. Her mother had died when she was little and her father had remarried shortly thereafter. Asami had been raised by her grandmother. But the facts told her little.

They didn’t tell her how Asami felt.

Korra stopped in front of the photograph of Asami’s mother and her thoughts drifted to the woman in the photo. What had she been thinking in that one captured moment? What had she been trying to say?

She sat on the floor and opened her sketchpad to a fresh page. She began to draw the features of the woman’s face. She tried to capture the intensity of her expression.

She lost track of time.

The sound of Asami’s voice startled her. “You know you’re allowed to sit on the furniture.”

Korra hadn’t heard her come in and as she stared down at the drawing she’d made, she worried that she’d crossed a line without realizing it. Her first instinct was to close the notebook and put it away, but she couldn’t bring herself to hide it. She took a breath and looked up. “The floor is very comfy, you should try it.”

Asami sat down. “I think your butt’s broken if you think this is comfortable.”

“My butt is working perfectly well, thank you,” Korra said. “It’s yours that’s confused.” Instead of answering, Asami leaned over and kissed her. It was a short kiss, but it made Korra smile. “Is that your way of shutting me up?”

“It’s my way of saying that I missed you and that I’m really glad to be home.” Asami noticed the sketchpad on Korra’s lap. “What have you been up to?”

Korra hesitated, though there was little point in trying to hide anything now. She handed it over. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what compelled me.”

Asami stared at the drawing for a long time and then up at the photograph, and back again. “I never realized that she looked so sad in that picture.”

Korra didn’t know how to respond to that, so she said nothing. A part of her was still worried that she’d done something wrong.

“Can I keep this?” Asami asked.

“Of course,” Korra said, surprised. She wanted to say more than that. She wanted to say that Asami could have anything; that she didn’t even have to ask. Instead, she found herself asking, “Do you miss her a lot?” The question sounded stupid aloud and she wished she could go back and start the sentence over.

“I don’t know,” Asami said, and though her voice sounded as it always did, her eyes looked troubled. “I miss the idea of her, I think. I don’t remember her to miss her.”

Korra knew that she was prying, but Asami didn’t seem to mind, and there were still so many questions Korra wanted answered. She stirred the words around her head, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to know. “I read that she died in a car accident...”

Asami looked at her and then she looked away. “She was actually murdered by a gang. The car accident was just a coverup by the press.”

Korra felt like the air had been knocked out of her.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” Asami said, and looked at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No,” Korra said, finding her voice. “I’m glad you did.”

“You don’t have to feel awkward about what to say. It was a long time ago.”

“Have you forgiven him?”

“My father?” Asami asked, as if the question shocked her. She stared thoughtfully at the floor. “I never thought about it in those terms.”

Instead of answering, Asami held up the drawing Korra had made. She looked at it silently for a long time before saying, “She didn’t love him.”

“Your mother?”

“She didn’t want to get married. She wanted to travel around the world. She wanted to see things and meet people and take photographs. But my grandpa wanted her to settle down. He insisted on it. He was ill and he wanted to see my mother married before he died. He introduced her to my father. He convinced her to give up her dreams. My father loved her, but he knew that she didn’t love him back. So, when she died he blamed himself. How could he not? So, in the end, it makes no difference if I forgive him or not. He has to forgive himself.”

Korra didn’t respond right away. There were too many thoughts flying around her head to settle on just one. And then she thought about Asami’s mother settling for a man she didn’t love. And how, if she hadn’t, then there would have been no Asami Sato. And it felt like an awful, selfish thing to think, so she pushed the thought away and said, “Perhaps it would make no difference, but maybe he needs to hear that you forgive him. Maybe he thinks that you blame him.” When Asami didn’t say anything, Korra asked, “Do you blame him?”

When Asami looked at her, Korra realized she’d never seen her look so unguarded before. “I don’t blame any of them,” Asami said. “My grandfather thought he was doing the right thing for my mother. My mother thought she was doing the right thing for my grandfather. And my father was blinded by love.”

It seemed unfair to Korra that Asami should be the one to pay the consequences of all of those bad decisions. They had all been selfish; her grandfather for standing in the way of his daughter’s dreams; her mother for leaving Asami motherless. And her father for letting a woman he supposedly loved give everything up for him when she didn’t want to. How could Asami not blame them?

“You look upset,” Asami said.

“I’m angry for you,” Korra admitted. “It just... feels unfair.” To her surprise, Asami smiled. She felt Asami’s hand on her own and the touch calmed her.

“Unfair or not, I’m happy now,” she said. “And sure, there are times when my heart breaks for my father and for my mother. And it makes me sad that I was not reason enough to keep her in this world. And there are times when I miss my grandmother so much I can hardly breathe. And there used to be times when I blamed them all for leaving me. But there’s no sense in dwelling on things that can’t be changed.”

Korra was sure that Asami wanted to believe that, and that maybe, to an extent, she did.

But she was also sure that there was more to it than that. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Asami was hurting.

“How was your day?” Asami asked, before Korra had a chance to comment.

Korra wanted to protest the change of subject. She wanted to know more about the heartbreak and the blame and all the other stuff Asami kept locked away. She wanted to know it all; all the good and the bad and the messy and the complicated. She wanted to understand all the secret parts of her, to lay out the pieces of Asami’s life like a jigsaw puzzle and put them all back together again. She wanted to know how to make her happy; truly, deeply happy, if such a thing were possible. But maybe now was not the time. “My day was...” And she thought of the hours spent staring at the ocean. “Peaceful. How was your meeting?”

Asami brightened at the question. “It went well,” she said. “Really well.”

“So, it’s official? Should we celebrate?”

“As official as it’s going to get until the papers are signed.”

Korra could see the excitement in Asami’s eyes and it made her smile. “I’m really happy for you.”

“I came out to Lin,” Asami said.

“Lin?”

“My agent.”

“Right.” Korra tried to gauge Asami’s feelings on the subject, but couldn’t tell if the news was good or bad. “What did she say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” Asami sighed and her grip on Korra’s hand loosened. “I know that I’m famous for all the wrong reasons. I’m famous because people think I’m good looking and because they like to know what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. The cameras follow me because people love to gossip about me. Lin says if I come out now that no one will care about anything else. It won’t matter what movies I make or how well I act in them. My personal life will forever be front and center.”

Korra hesitated, but said, “Asami, I’m scared just to tell my family. I can’t imagine what it must be like to worry about how the entire nation is going to feel about it and how their feelings would impact my career. It makes my brain hurt, honestly.”

“It makes my brain hurt, too.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I want to kiss you,” Asami said. “And then take you out to dinner. And then take you in my bed.”

Korra smiled and leaned forward to brush her lips against Asami’s. Her stomach fluttered at the touch. “I am very okay with those plans.”

***

If Korra was Cinderella, then Manuel was her Fairy Godmother. He walked up to her the moment he entered the house and looked her up and down and twirled her around and he said, “Hmm,” a lot. And then he smiled. “You’re going to look beautiful.”

Korra arched an eyebrow at Asami. “We’re going to a restaurant, right? Not to a palace or anything?”

Asami smiled in reply. “Humor me.”

So, Korra humored her because she could see that it made Asami happy, and there was nothing she wanted more than to make Asami happy. The details of Asami’s past swirled around Korra’s head as she tried on dress after beautiful dress, and she tried to focus on the present. There was no price tag on any of the dresses and the fact made her uncomfortable.

“I’m scared to ask,” she said, while staring at her reflection, “but how much does a dress like this cost?”

Manuel had kicked Asami out of the bedroom, so they were alone. “For everyone else, it is $1200,” he said, “but for Asami, it’s free.”

The price shocked her. “Why free? Because she’s famous?”

Manuel snorted. “Please. If I gave dresses out for free to all famous people I’d have no business. Didn’t Asami tell you?”

“Tell me?”

“No, I suppose not. She owns my store. Well, she bought it and then she gave it to me.”

“She gave it to you?”

Manuel looked her up and down and shook his head. “This is not the dress. Next.” He shoved another one into her hands and turned around while Korra changed. “I used to have a store online and she found it. I was making no money from it and living in my parents’ garage. One day she contacted me and asked if I’d like to design a dress for an event she had to go to. I peed my pants. Then I said yes. She flew me to Los Angeles. And then she asked if I’d like to go into business with her.”

“Asami owns a clothing store?”

“I prefer the term boutique,” Manuel said, and turned around to look at her. “And yes. But like I said, she eventually gave it to me. Handed the papers over to me once it became profitable. I tried to buy it from her but she didn’t want money. So, I promised to design for her whenever she needed and come running any time she asked. And here we are.” He eyed her curiously. “She doesn’t usually ask me to come over here for other people.”

Korra didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She adjusted the straps on the dress. It felt tight, but comfortable.

“She’s in love with you.”

“What?” 

“The way she looks at you,” he said, and sighed. When he spoke, his tone was wistful. “I looked at someone that way once.”

“Brad Pitt?”

“George Clooney,” Manuel answered. He grinned. “I like you.” He walked over to her and pulled at the dress this way and that. He cocked his head to the side. “Getting closer, I think.” He grabbed another dress and handed it to her. While she changed, he said, “So.”

“Hmm?”

“You and Asami?”

Korra had no idea what to say. Were they that obvious? If so, that was a concern. Would Asami mind that Manuel had guessed? Was he someone to be trusted?

He smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said, as if her thoughts were audible. “I’d never tell a soul. I always thought there was something a little off about her relationship with Bolin. She looked at him with love, sure, but never with lust. And who wouldn’t look at Bolin with lust? Right?”

Korra didn’t know what to say to that, either, so she focused on putting on the latest dress.

This one was blue, sleeveless and lined in silk. It hugged her body like a glove, and when she looked in the mirror she felt like a model.

“With that dress on, you won’t even make it to the restaurant,” Manuel said, and winked.

***

“You’re staring at me,” Korra said, without looking at her. She sounded amused as she looked out the window of the limo.

She was staring, and she didn’t even care. All Asami could think about was kissing Korra’s shoulders, slipping her hand under that blue dress and sliding her palms up the inside of Korra’ thigh. “You’ve turned me into a pervert,” she said.

Korra laughed and Asami’s heart danced at the sound. “Oh, so it’s my fault, then?” she asked, turning away from the window. 

“I was innocent and virginal until I met you and now I have all these dirty thoughts in my head.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

Asami bit her lip. She was too shy to say.

Korra grinned and ran her finger down Asami’s arm. “Your bashfulness is endearing, Ms. Sato.”

The contact made Asami’s body tingle. She answered Korra’s comment with a kiss, sliding close to her until there was no space left between them. Kissing Korra always surprised her.

The initial contact was always startling, like the first taste of something long-craved. It soothed some hidden, restless part of her. And while her emotions swirled, her body responded. Her skin burned with the need to touch and be touched. “Whose idea was it to leave the house?”

“Yours,” Korra answered, her lips on Asami’s neck. “Your perfume drives me crazy. What is it?”

“I have no idea,” Asami said, because she couldn’t remember much of anything. Korra’s hand was on her thigh, pushing the fabric of her dress slowly upward.

“We could go back,” Korra whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” Asami said, and wasn’t exactly sure what she was saying yes to. Then she felt the limo roll to a complete stop and a quick glance out the window told her that it was too late. Her driver was already getting out. Any second now, the door would be opened.

“Or not,” Korra said, and removed her hand.

“I have the worst ideas ever,” Asami mumbled, and straightened out her dress.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Korra said, grinning. “Foreplay is kind of fun.”

The driver opened the door before Asami had a chance to comment further, but she was smiling when she stepped outside. The breeze cooled her burning skin and she was grateful. She took a deep breath.

The restaurant was busy. She could tell by the crowd of people waiting near the entrance.

“Will we manage to get a table?” Korra asked.

“We have a reservation.” They would have gotten a table without one, but Asami didn’t want to say that. She suspected that Korra would think it unfair if she used her fame to cut in front of people. A year ago, Asami wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But these days, she thought about everything.

“Asami, thank God.”

Asami froze at the sound of the voice. Oh no. No. No.

Her stepmother appeared suddenly before her. “Your father decided he didn’t need a reservation,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s over there arguing it out with the maître d’. But, now that you’re here...” She turned around. “Come.”

“This is not happening,” Asami whispered. She turned to Korra. “I say we make a run for it.”

“Who is that?”

“My stepmother.”

“She’s pretty.”

“She’s Satan.”

“Is that your father?”

His back was to them, but she’d seen him walking away from her enough times to know it was him. “In the flesh.”

“Great day to meet the future in-laws.”

In spite of everything, the comment made Asami smile. It gave her hope of a happily ever after. But the hope fizzled the moment her father turned to look at her. She had no idea what he was thinking. Was he happy to see her? Disappointed? Embarrassed that she was witness to some perceived failure? She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Dad.”

“Asami,” he said.

How long had it been since they’d seen each other? A year? More? He’d let himself go. His hair was thinning. His belly was rounder than she remembered. This moment didn’t feel real.

Her conversation with Korra earlier had left her feeling raw. She felt like all of her emotions were bubbling near the surface and that at any moment they would burst.

“Ms. Sato,” said a voice that she didn’t recognize. “Your table for two is ready.”

“Table for four,” said her stepmother. “Really, Asami, I don’t know why we insist on eating here. The staff is incompetent.”

Asami tightened her jaw. She was at a crossroads and she didn’t know what to do. She glanced at Korra who was gazing back at her expectantly. She was about to speak when the maître d’ spoke up.

“Table for four,” he said, smoothly. “My mistake. Right this way.” He led them into the restaurant and Asami followed until there was nothing left to do but sit.

She didn’t know how to get out of this. Of all the restaurants in all of Los Angeles, why had she picked this one? More importantly, why had they? The maître d’ slipped a menu into her hands and began discussing their selection of wines. Asami took the opportunity to glance apologetically at Korra. There was no way this evening could turn out well.

Misaki seemed to notice Korra for the first time. “Asami, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

Her father said, “I think I saw you in that movie, no?” He turned to Misaki. “With the zombies?”

“Oh yes,” Misaki said. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“Misaki,” Asami said, “Dad. This is Korra. She’s actually an artist.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Korra said.

“Oh, so you weren’t in the movie?” Her father asked. “I could’ve sworn. My name is Hiroshi. This is my wife, Misaki.”

“What sort of art do you do?” Misaki asked.

“I work a lot with acrylics and charcoal,” Korra said.

“She does amazing work,” Asami said. “That’s how we met, actually. I bought a sketch of hers in New York.” It was strange to say that. The words belittled the complexity of their relationship. She wanted to tell them the whole story, from beginning to end, simply so she could relive it.

The waiter interrupted whatever might have been said next. Asami’s father ordered a bottle of wine for the table and inquired about the specialties of the day.

This might all turn out okay, Asami thought to herself. She perused the menu, feeling too anxious to be hungry. She glanced at Korra to make sure she was okay. Asami would have to apologize for this. Impromptu dinner with her family was the last thing she’d wanted that evening.

“So, Asami, I didn’t know you were in town.”

Asami regarded her father and tried not to feel annoyed. How would he know where she was? He never bothered to call. “I’ve got a couple of meetings this week,” she said. “Then it’s back to New York.”

“Is Bolin staying with you?” Misaki asked. “I read that you’re back together. Is it true?”

Asami shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was not the question that bothered her but where the conversation was headed. She could see the danger signs ahead. “No,” she said.

The waiter arrived with the wine, and Asami took a deep breath. She didn’t have to tell them anything. She could sidestep some questions, give some vague answers, change subjects, skip dessert and get out of there as soon as possible.

“Your poor father has to find out about your life second hand,” Misaki said. “It would be nice if you checked in once in a while, for his sake.”

“And I would,” Asami said, before she could stop herself, “but I got tired of always getting his voicemail.”

“Let’s not talk about this here,” her father said.

“By all means, let’s save it for the next time we see each other,” Asami said. “In five years.”

“Asami.” His tone was a warning.

She was angry. She was angry and she was hurt and she wanted to lash out at him. She wanted to tell him exactly what she felt, even if she still didn’t know exactly what that was.

She wanted to shout at him until she found the right words to convey her pain. But what difference would it make to say these things now? What purpose would it serve beyond creating a scene?

Misaki picked up her drink and swirled the red liquid around the glass before speaking. “So, what happened with Bolin?”

Asami considered not answering, but she didn’t see what good would come out of ignoring the question. More would certainly follow. She chose her words carefully. “Nothing happened with Bolin,” she said. “We’re friends.”

“Nonsense,” Misaki said. “A man and a woman can’t be just friends.”

“They can when one of them is gay.”

Misaki lowered her glass. “Bolin is gay?”

“No, I am.” Asami had meant to say something else, something to steer the conversation away from her personal life, but the truth seemed so much simpler. Three words. Three monosyllabic words. She felt weightless. Her anger dissipated.

And then Misaki spoke. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s not even remotely funny,” said her father.

Asami looked at Korra, trying to find encouragement in her eyes or maybe just permission. She found both. “It’s not a joke,” she said. “I’m a lesbian. Korra is my girlfriend. We’re in love.”

“Stop talking like that, or people are going to hear you.”

“I don’t care,” Asami said sharply, and she was surprised to find that she meant it. “It’s the truth. I’m gay.”

“Sami—”

“Asami,” she interrupted. “It’s Asami, Dad. Only a select few people, including mom, can call me Sami, and you’re not one of them.”

“Yes,” said Misaki. “And I’m sure she’s glad she died so she wouldn’t have to suffer the shame of having you as her daughter.”

Asami had no time to react. She registered movement out of the corner of her eye and before she could make out what exactly was happening, she saw a flash of red followed by the sound of liquid meeting skin. The wine hit Misaki square in the face, splashed into her hair and spilled down onto her designer blouse.

Her father jumped to his feet. Misaki flailed her hands in front of her face. Several people glanced over at the commotion. Asami turned her head to find Korra still holding the empty glass. There was a look in her eye that said she was two seconds from crawling over the table and strangling Misaki. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” Asami told her.

Korra nodded and the two of them excused themselves without a word. The maître d’ called out to her as they hurried past his station, but Asami was too busy texting her driver to answer his questions. She’d leave the explanations to her father.

The limo pulled up a few seconds after they stepped outside and they climbed aboard. “Take us home,” she told the driver, and then raised the partition.

For several seconds, neither of them said anything.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Korra said at last. “I’m sorry. It’s just... what she said to you... it was just so... I just wanted to stab her with the butter knife.” Asami started laughing, which only made Korra stare at her. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Asami said, her laughter settling into a soft chuckle. “No one has ever stood up for me like that before.”

“She deserved much worse than wine in the face,” Korra said.

“I don’t know.” Asami grinned. “Embarrassing her in public while simultaneously ruining her clothes? In her book, that’s as bad as it gets.” She giggled. “Oh God, her face was hilarious.”

Korra started to smile but then she stopped. “I can’t get over what she said to you. Just the thought of someone hurting you makes me livid.” She paused before asking, “Are you upset that I caused a scene?”

Asami shook her head. “You know, sitting at that table, I was so angry that I thought I would explode or burst into tears or something. And now... I don’t know. I feel... light.”

“Light,” Korra echoed. She smiled. “You came out to them.”

“I did.”

“And it was a total disaster.”

“Couldn’t have gone worse.”

Korra kissed Asami’s cheek and rested her head on her shoulder. “I think I made a good first impression.”

“Definitely unforgettable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for posting late again. My life has been so hectic and stressful lately. I hope you enjoyed the second to last chapter. One more to go. :)


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Learn more about the original author here: http://ingriddiaz.com

The return to New York came quicker than Korra had expected. Wednesday was a snippet of what life could be like: waking up together, showering together, breakfast by the pool, walks down the beach, making love at every opportunity. Korra wanted that life. At the very least, she wanted more days of uninterrupted Asami time. But Thursday rolled around, and there were meetings Asami had to go to and phone calls she had to answer and the day slipped quickly by until they were on a plane, headed east.

A lot had happened in four days, and Korra was still processing the events of the week. Asami had come out to her family, which only made Korra think about doing the same with her own. The thought filled her with dread. It was impossible to be brave when you already knew the outcome. It felt like a ticking time-bomb. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Boom. There went her family; lost in a blur of tears and anger and Bible quotes. She could live a lie and keep them happy, or she could tell the truth and lose their love. Was there a right answer? Or did it all boil down to choosing the option she could live with.

She would tell them. Some day. Eventually. Maybe. No, right away. She would write them a letter. She would call them on the phone. She would drop by in person. It didn’t matter. She could already see her mother’s face, stricken with shame and pain and disappointment.

She turned away from the airplane window and looked at Asami. Asami looked up from her book and something in her eyes tore through Korra’s soul. She felt unworthy, sitting there beside Asami. She felt ashamed of her own cowardice. Asami grew up bearing the weight of her mother’s death, her father’s guilt and her grandmother’s fading health, all the while facing the pressure of a career in the limelight. Now she had the fear of losing her career and everything she’d worked towards. And still she’d come out to her family, answering cruelty with poise and even laughter. “How do you do it?” she asked.

Asami closed the book. “Do what?”

“How are you so brave?”

“Brave? Me?” Asami started to laugh but saw that Korra was serious. “I’m not brave, I’m just impulsive. Like you throwing wine in Misaki’s face.”

“Wait, you threw wine in someone’s face?” Kuvira had suddenly appeared within earshot. She plopped down in the seat across from Korra.

“Who threw wine in someone’s face?” Opal asked, taking the seat beside Kuvira.

“Korra.”

“Whose face?”

“Who’s Misaki?” Kuvira asked.

“Korra threw wine in Misaki’s face?” Bolin walked over.

“Will someone tell me who the hell Misaki is?”

“Asami’s stepmother,” Opal answered.

“Holy goat fuck. Seriously?”

“Why was I not there to see this?” Bolin asked. “You’re now, officially, my hero.” He bowed before Korra.

“Wait, tell us everything,” Opal said. “Start at the beginning.”

“What’s going on down here?” Megan asked.

“Korra threw wine in Asami’s stepmother’s face,” Kuvira said.

“Korra did?”

“Let her tell the story.”

They all stared expectantly at Korra.

Startled by the sudden attention, Korra looked to Asami for assistance but her girlfriend was too busy looking amused to be of much help. Korra cleared her throat. She didn’t want to go into the full details of what Misaki had said. The thought still infuriated her and made her want to travel through time and punch her in the face. But, she could give them an abridged version of the truth. “Um, well, we ran into Asami’s dad and stepmom at the restaurant...”

***

All day, Asami had been dreading the thought of parting ways with Korra. She’d grown used to being around her all day. She’d grown used to falling asleep with Korra in her arms and waking up beside her. The thought of going back to her empty apartment made Asami want to cry.

They dropped Megan off first. Then Bolin and Opal. Kuvira entertained them with stories of their wild adventures in Los Angeles, which Asami would have enjoyed more had she not been getting progressively more depressed by the thought of saying goodbye.

It wasn’t long before they drove up to Korra’s apartment and Kuvira jumped out first to give them some privacy.

There were a lot of things on the tip of Asami’s tongue. A lot of things she would have said if she’d known exactly how to express them.

“This is stupid,” Korra said.

“What is?”

“Sitting here trying to figure out how to say good night.” Korra looked at her. “Would you sleep here? With me? I mean, you already have your bags with you. And the studio is a much shorter ride from here.”

Asami had been on the verge of asking Korra to come back to her apartment. The alternative had never occurred to her. “Really?”

“I mean, my apartment is a nightmare—”

“I don’t care about your apartment.” She didn’t like the way that sounded, so she tried again, “I mean, it doesn’t matter how big or small or cramped it is. I would be happy with you anywhere.”

“So, then... yes?”

“Yes,” Asami said, and smiled, relief flowing through her.

“Let’s go then.”

***

To Asami, Korra’s apartment was fascinating. It was small and nothing in it was new or shiny or bright. The furniture didn’t match, although it didn’t clash, either. The walls were covered in artwork; some framed and others taped or nailed or tacked. There were cracks on the ceiling. A window in the living room looked broken. But standing there, Asami felt as if she’d wandered into a special place. Unlike the places she’d grown up, the apartment was inviting; cozy. It was filled with something intangible; like hope.

Asami wondered what this life might have been like for her; if she’d been a poor actress trying to make it in the world. She’d never had that experience: living paycheck to paycheck, choosing needs and desires based on what she could and could not afford. She didn’t know what it was like to live life trying to climb upwards rather than keep from falling down.

“It must seem dreary,” Kuvira said, leaning against the doorway to her room.

Asami wondered how long she’d been standing there. Korra had gone to shower and the sound of running water echoed loudly in the small space. It reminded Asami of standing near a waterfall. “What must?”

“The apartment.”

“I was thinking quite the opposite, actually,” Asami replied. “I was thinking it’s very homey.”

Kuvira laughed. “Yes, homey. Code for downtrodden.” She walked over and leaned against the back of the couch. “Life is so weird, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Asami wasn’t inclined to disagree but she wanted to know what Kuvira’s thoughts were on the subject.

“A few months ago, Korra was wandering around like an emotional zombie and I was working my ass off at a coffee shop barely making rent, and now Korra is floating on air and I’m in a movie. With you.”

Asami smiled. A few months ago she was walking around like an emotional zombie, too, but she didn’t say that. All of that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Did you have anything to do with that, by the way?”

“With what?”

“With me getting a part in the movie,” Kuvira said.

“Oh,” she said, and knew she was stalling. The answer was somewhere in the middle of yes and no, but she didn’t know how to explain it. “I don’t really have any say in final casting choices. You got cast because you’re really good. But I did recommend you for the part.” Remembering what the part entailed, she added, “I mean, I asked Taylor if there was a part for you. I didn’t... you know... I didn’t mean to say that I requested you specifically for that role.”

“Aww, I just made Asami Sato blush. This is such a dear diary moment.” Kuvira smiled. “Anyway, thank you. And that’s a general, all-inclusive thank you because I don’t do mushy talk very well.”

“You’re welcome, in a general, all-inclusive way.”

The water stopped and the apartment fell into silence.

“You make her really happy,” Kuvira said, glancing at the bathroom door.

“I thought you didn’t do mushy talk?”

“I know, fuck. But it’s just I see you guys together and you’re so cute and in love and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and nauseated. And anyway, I just wanted to say that I approve and that you have my blessing to court her. But if you hurt her I’ll kill you. I didn’t kill Mako because he’s not worth going to prison for, but you, definitely.”

“I can’t tell if that’s flattering or disturbing.”

“Flattering,” Kuvira said. “For sure.”

***

“I have something for you,” Asami said once they were alone.

“What’s the occasion?” Korra asked, both surprised and curious. She sat up on the bed and watched as Asami withdrew a box from one of her bags.

“No occasion,” Asami said as she sat across from Korra and held out the box to her. “I just want you to have it.”

Korra accepted the jewelry box, curious and a bit confused. Inside, she found a golden bracelet. It was beautiful, but she didn’t understand why Asami was giving it to her.

“It was the last Christmas present my grandmother gave me.”

“Oh,” Korra said because there were no good words to answer with. She stared down at the bracelet. She’d never seen Asami wear it. She was about to say that she couldn’t take it, because her first instinct was to give it back and say it was not something she’d feel right keeping. But Asami was giving it to her for a reason and she wanted to understand. So, she took the bracelet out of the box and held it in her hands. The inscription caught the light. Action is the antidote to despair.

“You want to know why I never told her I was gay?”

Korra glanced up and said, “I figured it was because you didn’t know how she’d take it.”

Asami smiled. “No, it was because I knew how she’d take it,” she said. “I knew she’d tell me to embrace it and be proud and be out and I didn’t know how to explain to her that I was terrified it would ruin my acting career. I knew she’d think my priorities were skewed. She didn’t want me to get lost in the fame or the acting or the Hollywood life and I couldn’t tell her that I wanted to be lost in it because it was the only thing I’d have left after she was gone.”

There was, in Asami’s voice, such a mixture of love and anguish that it made Korra’s heart ache.

“You think that I’m brave because my family life is a movie of the week and I somehow managed to turn out okay, but if it weren’t for my grandmother, I have no idea where I’d be right now. She packed me full of wisdom and love and armed me with self-confidence. And I hated who I became after she died because I was cold and distant and withdrawn and pretty much everything she taught me not to be. And then I met you and it all came back to me, slowly, granted, but here we are.”

Here we are.

“I wanted you to have that,” Asami continued, “because even though you don’t get to meet her, my grandmother was a very strong and wise woman and the source of all that bravery I supposedly have. And I hope that maybe she can be that for you, too. Wherever she is.” Korra’s eyes blurred and she wiped them with her hand. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Korra lied. “My eyes just have an allergic reaction to unexpected gestures full of love and thoughtfulness.”

Asami smiled at that. “I can buy you anything you want, but I wanted to give you something that meant a lot to me.”

“I love it.”

“Good, I was worried you’d think I had ulterior motives.”

Korra had been staring at the inscription on the bracelet, but Asami’s words caught her attention. “What ulterior motives?” The answer came in the form of a long, lingering kiss. Asami’s lips were soft and she tasted of spearmint. “You don’t have to try so hard to get into my pants,” Korra said, and smiled. “As it turns out, I’m pretty easy.”

“Who said anything about your pants? I was thinking more along the lines of your toilet paper collection.”

“Oh, no,” Korra said, shaking her head. “You’re never getting your hands on my toilet paper squares.”

“Damn.”

Korra put the bracelet back in the box and placed it gently on the nightstand. Then she kissed Asami again and pulled her closer. “You can get your hands on my body, though.”

“I suppose that’s a reasonable compromise.”

***

Korra woke to an empty apartment. On the bathroom mirror she found a Post-It note that said, I didn’t want to wake you. Call me when you get a chance. I love you. PS: I miss you already. And underneath, in Kuvira’s unmistakable handwriting, the words: I’m off to have on-screen sex with your girlfriend. I love you, also. PS: Please keep the nauseating cuteness to a minimum. There are other people on this Post-It.

Back in her room, Korra sat on the bed and listened to the sounds drifting in through the walls of the apartment building. The upstairs neighbor was playing a strange, unrecognizable instrument, or perhaps he was playing a familiar instrument in an unrecognizable way.

The bracelet Asami had given her was still in the box and Korra took it out. She wondered what Asami’s grandmother had been trying to say with that inscription. Was there something specific she’d wanted Asami to do? Or had she simply wanted Asami to take charge of her life and be happy? It was simple advice. The execution was much harder.

Without Asami around to distract her, Korra found her thoughts wandering back to the events of the week. 

She played around with the bracelet. What would Asami’s grandmother do? She didn’t know the answer to that, either. Perhaps a better question was whether or not Korra wanted a relationship with her parents. Did she want them in her life? Did they want to be in hers? What would they think of her dating Asami? Maybe that was a good place to start.

She put the bracelet away and dug her laptop out of her suitcase. While it powered up she thought about what she would say. Something short. Something simple. Something true.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_ I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact lately. Or maybe I’m not sorry. I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things lately. _

_ But I know that I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions lately about our relationship and about how I feel about you guys which must mean something. So I thought I’d take a step toward open communication and tell you something important. _

_ I’m in love. And now that I understand what love is and how it can take your life and flip it upside down and take it in directions you never expected, I think I can see why you did what you did with Tara. I can see, too, how love can put you in a position where you might hurt people without wanting to, and that not every situation has a magical solution or even a correct answer. _

_ Mom and Dad, I’m in love with a girl. And I intend to be in love with her for as long as she’ll have me so I hope you’re okay with having another gay daughter. _

_Anyway. I hope to hear back from you._

_ Korra. _

***

Asami made her way through Central Park, following the directions Korra had texted her and making several wrong turns before eventually finding her way to the small rustic bridge Korra had indicated. She found Korra near a small stream, standing before a canvas and easel.

The sight filled her with inexpressible joy.

“You came,” Korra said.

“Several times, if I recall correctly.” Asami kissed Korra’s cheek in greeting and handed her the cup of coffee she’d picked up along the way. “For you.”

“And to think I only loved you for your body,” Korra said. “But you’re also quite useful as a delivery girl.”

“You say the sweetest things.” Asami stood there quietly for a few seconds. She didn’t know where they were exactly but she didn’t mind. They were alone. If it weren’t for the buildings peeking out from the top of the trees she’d have sworn they weren’t in New York anymore. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“It’s one of my favorite spots. Not a lot of people come here. I was going to tell you to meet me at Bow Bridge but I thought you might like this.”

“I do,” Asami said. “I feel like I’ve seen nothing of New York.”

“That’s because you haven’t,” Korra answered. “But we can change that.”

Asami liked the promise of that. “So, it seems my father’s filing for divorce.”

“What?”

“I had a voice mail message from him and he was all apologetic about what happened at dinner and he said he’d been thinking of leaving Misaki for a long time but that her comment to me was the final straw. And that he’d like to go to lunch or something when he comes back from... wherever he’s headed.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“How do you feel about it?”

Her feelings ranged from confusion to disbelief and back again. She didn’t know if there was an emotion that encapsulated all of that. She stared at the water flowing under the bridge and said, “No idea.” That was as close as she could come to an honest answer.

She sat down on a nearby rock and looked up at the trees and thought about how beautiful this must all look in full, springtime bloom. There was a chill in the air but it didn’t bother her. “So what are you working on?”

Korra turned the easel so Asami could see. The canvas was covered in alternating shades of blue. “It’s not done yet,” she said. “But I think I’ll call it Girl Comes Out to Her Parents via Email.”

“You came out to your parents? What did they say?” Asami was surprised. She hadn’t expected Korra to come out to anyone, let alone her parents.

“I don’t know yet.” Korra shrugged and sat down next to her. “It almost doesn’t matter what they say. It helped just to write it. It felt nice to say something honest to them.”

“I can understand that.” And she did. Despite the nightmare that was the dinner with her father, she regretted nothing of what she’d told him. She looked at Korra’s painting again. Something about it made her smile. “You still owe me a mural.”

“I was thinking I could just do a naked portrait of you. Floor-to-ceiling.”

“Mmm,” Asami said, knowing, or at least hoping, that Korra was joking. “Would I have to pose for you?”

“Preferably. Not that I haven’t committed your entire body to memory by now, but it doesn’t hurt to be thorough.”

“I think I’d prefer a naked portrait of you.”

“Are you painting it?”

“Maybe. Are you posing?”

“Sure. With the way you draw, I’ll come out looking like a giant turtle anyway.”

“Hey!”

Korra laughed and hugged Asami to her. She kissed the top of her head. “How about, I paint something else, but you still pose naked while I do it?”

Asami grinned and rested her head on Korra’s shoulder. She felt Korra tense as a group of people passed by, but Asami only moved closer and after a second, she felt Korra relax.

They sat quietly for a long time, enjoying each other’s warmth.

“It’s going to get dark soon,” Asami said, staring up the sky.

“What shall we do next?”

Asami thought about the evening ahead and all the days that were still to come, and where once she’d seen a succession of empty, lifeless days, she now saw the pleasure of endless possibilities. She took Korra’s hand, and said, “Anything we want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was fitting to post the final chapter on Korrasami Day. Thank you all SO much for reading this amazing story originally written by Ingrid Díaz. I have had so much fun converting this story to fit korrasami. I have loved reading all of your comments, they’ve definitely put a smile on my face! I’ve heard Ingrid Díaz is working on a sequel, so if she releases one, I will definitely ask to convert it! However, in the meantime, I would like to convert some more fics to fit korrasami. If you have any suggestions, feel free to drop them in the comments at any time. Once again, THANK YOU!!!
> 
> Happy Holidays :)


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